


Earned It

by shuantics



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bondage, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Office Sex, Pain Kink, Past Relationship(s), Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-11 16:25:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 78,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuantics/pseuds/shuantics
Summary: There are things in life that make perfect sense, like there are things that just go together. This, however, is a situation that neither makes sense, nor produces anything that goes together. How does Hong Jisoo, a meek, unprofitable wannabe writer, who watches the world pass him by, attract the attention of Lee Jihoon, a rich, successful, powerful CEO who has the world in the palm of his hands? In common sensuous, it just doesn’t happen, it wouldn’t make sense if it were to happen. They’re incompatible; two extreme ends of the social spectrum. The idea of anything between them is mad, insane, unheard of. He knows an attraction like this will never end happily.Right?





	1. I

**AUGUST**

 

Over traditional Thursday night pizza and beer, Jisoo decides to ask the question that’s been pondering his minds since Tuesday morning:

“Jeonghan?”

He captures the attention of his roommate, who sits next to him on the old sofa, a beer bottle in one hand, greasy slice of pizza in the other. 

Jisoo takes a deep breath, wondering,  _ am I really going to ask this to my best friend? _ “Would you say it’s… normal, or even  _ okay  _ to–” He rushes his next word, hoping the impact would be lost with the diction “–give your boss a blowjob after you’re late?”

Yoon Jeonghan, the kind of guy you’d know to save a good martini before himself, pauses, sets his beverage down on the coffee table and looks calmly at Jisoo. “I don’t know, buddy.” It’s very rare for the former to be at any level of calm on a normal day, so Jisoo waits. “Do you think it’s normal for pigs to, I don’t know, fucking fly?” 

“I’ll take that as a no then.”

_ “Joshua Jisoo Hong.”  _ Jeonghan stares at him, struck with a mix of shock and– maybe aversion, but he smiles anyway, one of the jesting grins that Jisoo knows to be always followed by a tease. “You’ve been working there for, what, six months? And you got on your knees and gave your boss a  _ blowie?  _ That’s tarty even for me.”

“Well–” Jisoo stammers. He looks at his best friend hopelessly, “–it didn’t… I mean, I didn’t  _ mean _ to!” He pulls the sleeve of his jumper down past his fist and gauchely picks at the threads. “It just kind of happened…”

“Oh, did you fall and he heroically caught you with his dick out?”

Jisoo lets out a groan.  _ “No,  _ I– _ ugh. _ ” He rubs his forehead in distress. “I mean, I didn’t go into work on Tuesday morning expecting–”

Jeonghan starts to laugh. “I knew you  _ liked him  _ Josh, but without dinner first? You never struck me as that slutty type.”

Jisoo sinks back into the couch with a tut. “Oh, it doesn’t matter, that’s not even the point.”

For the last five years of their lives, Yoon Jeonghan has proudly worn the self-acquired badge of  _ Hong Jisoo’s Best Friend,  _ which Jisoo was more than happy to let him have. He was indebted to Jeonghan for more either way after the help he’d been when Jisoo moved from his home in always sunny Los Angeles to indicatively forecasted Seoul in the year of his nineteenth birthday. Family some 6,000 miles away and living exhausted after an incredibly inconvenient mix-up that left him with no accommodation for his freshman year of college, Jeonghan – like a (dark) angel in the mist  – had offered Jisoo his sofa to crash on until his annual expenditure arrived a week later. He had told the lost, lonely American boy, who he’d found crying his scared soul out by Halls, that his previous roommate had suddenly needed to return to the south, but couldn’t expand further or he’d have to kill him.

(Jisoo did consider the possibility that he was voluntarily walking into a partnership with some gang affiliate, but was so tired and worried he just couldn’t bring himself to care.)

Jeonghan initially had said he was willing to trade the hospitality for regular sex (Jisoo still wasn’t sure if he was joking) and since Jisoo then was then profoundly religious, (and virginal;  _ God _ , has he changed) he had denied. Jeonghan offered it again, justifying it with that he a) was too lonely to pass up another roommate, b) he couldn’t afford the entire two bedroomed place on his own and c) Jisoo was pretty to look at.

Jisoo didn’t particularly have any other choice. It was either this guy, who was already in junior year that, admittedly, had left an odd impression on him, or it was the streets. So, of course, Jisoo chose Jeonghan, and the rest became history lost mostly in drunken nights, never to be recalled again unless by the photos on their shared  _ Let’s Never Talk About When  _ hard-drive buried three folders deep on Jisoo’s computer.

“Oh, I’m only playing,” Jeonghan tuts. “So, you had a moment of weakness and gave in to your boss’ desires. What is the point then?”

Though Jeonghan wears, and often reminds Jisoo of his  _ Best Friend Badge  _ with pride, he certainly is known to have a peculiar way of expressing his relationship. When Jisoo needs help, Jeonghan’s there, usually making sarcastic comments through the duration of his stay, but he’s there nonetheless. Like that time in Jisoo’s sophomore year when they were both so drunk that Jisoo proposed to a girl in his Ethical Journalism class. Shamefully embarrassed and ‘too much of a pussy’ (Jeonghan’s words) to talk to her himself, Jisoo sent Jeonghan to go and clarify with the lovely girl that they were not in fact betrothed. But, of course, like any other loyal best friend would, Jeonghan found the hilarity in doing the opposite, opting to discuss dates and wedding themes instead. (He had suggested a white winter ceremony, which Jisoo guesses the thought of was nice.) When he was rightfully rejected, Jeonghan was there to offer a shoulder – it wasn’t needed, but Jisoo again assumes his heart was in the right place.

“The point…” Jisoo begins, “is… uh…”

“There is no point, is there?”

There is no point. Because as nauseated and, in short,  _ shocked  _ as he is at the experience, the somewhat proud man that Jisoo is wouldn’t change a second of that morning for the world. To call him promiscuous would be a stretch, but nor is he equally as maiden. Being a young man in a foreign country with no strong sight of guidance for the first time in his life, Jisoo learned important things when he was in college. Mostly he learned how to just let go, let his metaphorical hair loose and learned that virginity is a social construct and a myth considering he’d fucked himself deep enough with his fingers first anyway. 

But he’s not nineteen anymore. He’ll be twenty-three this coming December and he should  _ not  _ be in the running towards being the most piteous adult of the year by giving in to his nagging, raging, childish crush on his boss some ten(ish) years older than him. A rather brash and sexually explicit crush, albeit, but a dumb childish crush nonetheless!

Jisoo’s stuck between a rock and a hard place; wedged between the pools of confusion and panic, and pinning and exhilaration, though it’s more commonly phrased as a quarter-life crisis. Also, he basically hasn’t stopped thinking of his boss’ cock down his throat since it happened, and it’s arousing more problems than he’s willing to handle.

Arising. He means arising.

_ Oh.  _ Maybe that’s the point.

“Well?”

From picking at the condensation-soaked label on his bottle, Jisoo looks up. “Well, what?”

“Are you going to tell me how it was, or am I gonna have to read about it in your fluffy pink diary stashed under your pillow later?”

Jisoo scowls. “I don’t have a fluffy–”

_ Irrelevant,  _ Jeonghan’s face says.

Jisoo sighs. He tried to find some other way around it in his head, but there was none. Simply, Jisoo had succumbed to the constant devil on his shoulder whispering, “You should totally let him fuck your throat.” every time he so much as longing looked in his boss’ direction. He’d given in to that itchy feeling in the pit of his stomach that persisted for the entire of his six working months, that grew and grew every time he was complimented for his adequate work, or offered a smile when his boss invited him out for company drinks. He’d given in and  _ enjoyed  _ the way the brown of his boss’ eyes bore into him from above; the way his voice was sharp, demanding, but even so, hesitant and nervous. It makes Jisoo’s heart flutter as much as it did rush heat to his groin. He’d given in to every natural sense he had, and suddenly, he was nineteen again, being touched for the first time, feeling wanted and needed for the very first time.

“It was…” Jisoo clears his throat. “It was good, I guess.”

Even so, Jisoo was smart enough to know that looks can be deceiving, and wise enough to realize that he may as well just be another boy who dropped to his knees for Lee Jihoon. Nothing more, maybe less.

 

*

 

Jisoo held his breath as the steel doors of the elevator slid open. Armed with his bag, folder on top of folder and a holder with two polystyrene cups in his hands, he briskly walked along the thirty-second floor, the striking view of the city, blue skies and the Han river folding out over the horizon behind the row of floor to ceiling glass windows. The floor bustled with people already busy about their morning, shipping coffee to lower departments and discussing business over their meticulously placed headsets. The large clock glared at Jisoo from the wall, minutes ticking by like seconds yet still feeling like they were hours: nine twenty-three, meaning he was twenty-three minutes late and arriving in a less than appealing state.

“Uh, oh.” As Jisoo gracelessly dropped his things on his desk, a voice from the assortment of chairs in the waiting area crossed him. He looked over and saw a man – a  _ boy,  _ who Jisoo knows to be not much younger than himself – unceremoniously draped there. “Looks like someone’s in trouble.”

“Seungkwan.” Jisoo again looked at the clock. “I got caught up,” he replies. “Is his nine-forty appointment here yet?”

“Nope,” Seungkwan answered. “The other Mr. Lee is with him, though. Hence why I’ve been abandoned out here.” He fiddled with his worker’s badge hanging around his neck, reminding Jisoo to fish his own attached to a blue lanyard from somewhere deep in his satchel. Seungkwan, despite his recent graduation from college a year after Jisoo, had been at the company for just a few weeks more, serving also as personal assistant to the Marketing Director, Lee Seokmin, officed three floors below.

Jisoo let out a deep breath. “Did he notice I was late?” he asked, rather stupidly. Of course, a man the likes as Lee Jihoon would notice, he wasn’t dumb.

“He certainly noticed you weren’t here.”

Jisoo suddenly felt the panic rise to his throat again. It was one of those moments he’d seen occur plentifully over the last six months for him, where he’d make a small mistake; a miniscule mishap like copying maybe one more sheet than what was required, or dunking an extra spoonful of sugar in his boss’ coffee and expecting the entire building to come crashing down on him. It was the worry that arose because of mainly two fractions of Jisoo’s personality: one being that the standards he has for himself are so high that he despises the very thought of letting anyone down; and two being that his head is still so far up his boss’ ass that he’d rather vault himself off the roof than be caught with a flaw such as being late.

It’s ridiculous, but until then it had kept him motivated enough.

Jisoo groans. “What do you think he’s going to do with me?” He (of course) meant professionally: be fired or sent home with a scowl like he was back in middle school, but Seungkwan scoffs a laugh.

“Depends what you ask him to.”

Jisoo frowns. “What? N-no, I didn’t–” He swallows. “Of  _ course  _ I didn’t mean like–”

From behind him, the black door with the gold plaque shimmering  _ Lee Jihoon, CEO  _ clicks open. Jisoo scrambles to make his desk look presentable, while Seungkwan scrambles to make himself too.

“Ah, Jisoo,” Lee Seokmin said with a smile. He has a wonderful smile, as the talk around the office says; bright and gleaming that’ll clear up any grey day. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Mr. Lee,” Jisoo greets with a forward tilt of his head. 

Seokmin dismisses the formality with a tut and a wave, digging his hands into his pinstriped suit pockets. “Please, you can call me Seokmin.”

Jisoo didn’t feel like he could, so he smiles and adds another bow.

“Sir,” Seungkwan addresses. “The apprenticeship applicants are waiting in the lobby.” 

“Yes, yes, we’ll see to them now.” Seokmin smiles at Seungkwan before nodding his head towards the other Mr. Lee’s office. “He’s asked me to send you in. Word of advice: give him his coffee with a smile – he’s not in the best of moods this morning.”

Jisoo’s heart dropped straight to his stomach.  _ Oh, shit, that’s fantastic.  _ He tries his best to prepare for the harrowing feeling of disappointment he knows will take a hold of his gut. 

Seokmin and Seungkwan leave and Jisoo gripped the coffee cup in his hand, releasing a deep breath. To say he’s one who doesn’t deal well with disappointment is an understatement – he rejects it on even a spiritual level.  Faint-heartedly, he raps his knuckles against the black oak, waiting with his breath held in his throat again, until a quiet, “Come in.” can be heard from inside. Folders under one arm, Jisoo pushes the door open, and prays his socially inept self stays stomped deep in him. 

The CEO’s office was sleek, modern, minimalistic; the furniture – from the leather chairs in the conference area on a drop down floor, to the fully stocked shelves of the bookstand, to the wood holding up a clear glass plate to serve as a desk – was black, matching in turn with the dark of the big man’s suit. The city sits behind the windows, floor to ceiling, blinds drawn half-way down, and half the view concealed by the building over the road (the telecommunications HQ, where people sit in cubicles and type hastily). Just before that is where he sits, Lee Jihoon, as always, dripping head to toe in everything Jisoo’s (wet) dreams are made of. 

Shit, how did Jisoo even get this lucky? And so close after college?

Almost a year prior, Jisoo had graduated with a major Journalistic degree and a minor in Classical Literature, and somehow managed to strike gold when he snatched up a job interview with an entrepreneurial company while many of his peers from university were still asking around with subpar part-times in retail. Being an entrepreneur wasn’t even on Jisoo’s career agenda, but in the back of his mind, a broken record was playing, one singing, “If you can make it in  _ blank,  _ you can make it anywhere.” so loudly that he submitted his resume without stopping to consider if  _ Lee Enterprises _ was even one of the commonly inserted company names. (It was.) He figured that until a place in media came along for him, a job as a personal assistant would fit just fine – who knew journalists were in such high demand these days?

Jisoo wasn’t expecting much in response to his application, especially after he and Jeonghan had spent an evening doing shots and researching the company in-depth (read: looking at the website and downing a drink every time they came across the word ‘strive’). In short, it was a business class company, while Jisoo was still very much flying in coach. Somewhere in the back of his drunken mind, Jisoo knew he wouldn’t fit in there.

“Oh, doesn’t he look like a snack!” Jeonghan hollered suddenly. Jisoo followed his wayward finger pointing the biographable picture of the CEO on the computer screen. “God, imagine working for him.”

Jisoo longed at the photo and did. “Damn,” he responded, searching the coffee table in their newly acquired apartment for a drink.

“Fuckable scale?”

Jisoo snorted but looked again anyway. “Maybe an eight, I don’t know.”

“I’d take him for a ten.”

“Well, you’re a top, so.”

“Damn right.” Jeonghan pauses. “What do you reckon he is?”

Jisoo narrows his eyes, mind humming with intoxication. “DILF,” he responds. “Absolute top.”

Jeonghan cackles. “Trust you.”

Nonetheless, Jisoo was shocked (and hungover) when he was called in for an interview the very next day.

Impeccably slick, CEO, supposed bachelor, and the man who had a firm grip on Jisoo’s heart, Lee Jihoon sat at his desk, thumbing his way through a stack of files, barely lifting an eyebrow through his sweeping brown fringe as Jisoo entered.

“You’re late,” he comments, and Jisoo instantly felt the unbearable emotion to cry swell in his chest. 

Jihoon wasn’t a nasty boss – in fact, he was just the opposite. He said, “Good morning.” to Jisoo almost every day, thanked him heartily for his hot coffee, offered him one of his favorite candies that he always kept in the top drawer of his desk. Jisoo saw the times he’d lost his patience with an employee and it was something to be feared. A creased brow, a low voice, a no-shit-taking stance in his folded arms; things Jisoo saw mirrored as he placed his coffee to the left of the files. But he was never like that with Jisoo. He spoke softly, he laughed more, relaxed better, like the way he did with Lee Seokmin, who Jisoo knew was a long-time friend. The times he swore he saw disappointment in his boss’ eyes when Jisoo said he couldn’t make it to the company meal, or the times he swore he was maybe too excited to invite him; they, and all the reasons he was sure he could justify having this crush, were also the reasons that made Jisoo think that his boss could have a  _ thing  _ for him to.

This being late ordeal is getting too deep under Jisoo’s skin.

“Sorry, sir.” Jisoo opened the folder tucked under his arm, double checking all the necessary papers were there, before placing it at the edge of the desk. “It won’t happen again.”

“I hope not.” Jihoon still hadn’t looked up at Jisoo.

“I have the monthly briefing notes you asked for.” Jisoo continued without taking a breath. “The interest that was expected in the Times Square project has been surpassed, and recent demographics show the patented invention from the team in Delaware is doing well in off-chain hardware stores.”

Jihoon hummed in approval and Jisoo waited. “Thank you."

He didn’t think it was possible, but the unacknowledged tension of guilt was worse when unchecked. He wished Jihoon would shout at him rather than this. 

Jisoo turned to leave, and, with his back to Jihoon, he heard the sound of fluttering paper, before– “I didn’t say I wanted you to leave yet.”

Jisoo halted in his tracks.  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid,  _ he scolds himself.  _ Rookie mistake.  _ He turned back, hands folded at his front. He expected to see his boss still hard at work, but Jisoo was instead met with a jolt of something that wasn’t quite nerves as he holds Jihoon’s eyes firmly on. It’s so hot he has to duck his head away. 

“Is there something else you need?” Jisoo asked, guling in his throat. 

Jihoon’s eyes flicker over Jisoo from head to toe, like he was scrutinizing him. Jisoo felt his nerves curl up inside him, like he needed to shy away from the gaze. “Maybe.” 

The tone of his voice alone made Jisoo want to drop to his knees right there. Authoritarian, strong,  _ dominating;  _ nothing like he’d heard it before. This wasn’t angry boss Lee Jihoon, this was something else Lee Jihoon.

Jisoo waited for a few excruciating moments, watching as his boss’ hands move from being folded over the file, to resting inconspicuously over his lap. He tried not to focus his eyes there, but he couldn’t help it– Lee Jihoon’s hands were so fucking pretty, his long, slender fingers a picture of delicacy, but Jisoo just had to think of them roughly grabbing him by the hair, or using those sharp looking nails to scratch down his spine.

“You can call me Jihoon, you know.”

Jisoo snapped his look from the view through the glass desk and let it fall on Jihoon’s face. “I’m sorry?” His eyes forbiddingly went back, just in time to witness the way Jihoon’s fingers curl around the curve of his member pressing hard against his black slacks.

“It’s kind of hard to be mad at you when you turn me on all the time.”

Jisoo considered the possibility that he wasn’t actually awake at that time, but the sudden dizziness that washed over his body was painfully real. 

Jisoo’s mind imploded. He chewed his lip persistently, body going into heat-wave mode – shit, if it wasn’t hot enough already, it sure was now – he couldn’t shake the image of those fingers pressing deep inside him, the palm of the other wrapped around his cock– wrapped around his  _ throat,  _ maybe. Not to mention, the bulge he was nursing didn’t seem to be lacking in any size department. Jisoo thought of how good it would feel to have  _ that  _ shoved into him quickly and rough and mercilessly, while Jihoon kissed his neck and cooed about how good he was for taking something so big…

He brought his hands over to conceal his own crotch, finally staring back into Jihoon’s dangerous eyes as blood started to seep from his bottom lip. 

Jisoo is way too deep to quit now.

“Come here.” Jihoon’s words ricocheted through him like a bullet, but he couldn’t command his body to obey. Abruptly, his boss pushes out from his desk, hard-on still strong, and walks around to the front of it. “Did you hear?” he repeats. “I asked you to come here.”

Well, he didn’t– he technically ordered him to, but Jisoo wasn’t about to correct him. Slowly, he totted over, standing a few centimeters away from Jihoon and awaiting further instruction like a scolded puppy. It was like a spell had been cast over him, seizing is being in a lock that only Jihoon had the key to. 

Jisoo almost stopped breathing as Jihoon raises a hand, gracefully letting it slide down Jisoo’s rather perspired neck. Jisoo stood a few inches taller than Jihoon (he guesses the latter to be a rough 5’5 while he stands a 5’10) but in no way did he feel superior. On the contrary, Jihoon had this way with his eyes that made himself seem like a giant even when he had to tip his chin to meet Jisoo. 

“You have pretty lips,” Jisoo’s boss observes, his index and middle finger coming to rest on the plush pink of Jisoo’s bottom lip. It stung from where Jisoo had but it, but the pain sent a shiver through the former like it always did. “I wonder what they’re good for other than talking shit.”

It’s only when Jisoo looks to his mind to find a reply and comes across nothing but, “Let me suck your cock.” does he have his first idea that maybe this is wrong. Maybe Jisoo shouldn’t be holding back from rubbing himself through his jeans and maybe Jihoon shouldn’t actually be. Maybe Jisoo should take a step back and say, “This is inappropriate, sir.” (though he can now only equate that title with a blindfold) and maybe Jihoon shouldn’t be indicating that Jisoo’s lips are perfect for a blowjob. (He has been told that before, so he takes it as quite a compliment.) Maybe,  _ just maybe,  _ this is a situation that should stay in Jisoo’s dream journal (that is  _ not  _ pink and fluffy, Jeonghan) and should be in no way ever acted out in real life. Because although he can’t currently find any of the ends to any of the strings tangled in his mind, Jisoo knows that there’s going to be nothing good to come from this. 

After a moment of pondering, Jihoon’s lips curl into a sadistic smile. Jisoo lets the bad thoughts fizzle into oblivion and listens when Jihoon says, “Knees.”

Jisoo does as he’s told, landing on the floor with a dull thud.

His belt is no struggle, coming off with ease with Jisoo’s swift, albeit shaky fingers. He’s like a child eager to rip into his Halloween candy, teeth chuddering at his already bloody lip.  It looks expensive, some sort of designer brand, and opts to just place it gently next to him in worry of breaking it. He reaches into Jihoon’s pants and pulls out his dick instead, almost salivating by the mere look of it. Everything Jihoon is screams expensive - his office, his style, his cars - he wouldn’t be surprised if his cock is worth a couple million won itself. It’s like holding diamonds in his hand and he looks up at Jihoon, licking his lips expectantly.

With a slanted smile, Jihoon strokes his hair, musing, “Go on, baby boy.” 

Jisoo sighs blissfully, the thoughts of protest somehow burying deeper, and takes Jihoon in whole. 

Jihoon’s moans are like an angel's song in his ears - much more erotic knowing they’re because of him. Jisoo has a small confidence boost as he slides his lips along the shaft, big, doe eyes blinking up almost innocently. His entire mind becomes fixated on one goal, to please his boss like it’s the only redemption arc he gets. His breathing is labored, pulling off to inhale and lap his tongue over the slit. 

Jihoon hisses and moans, hand tangling into Jisoo’s hair for leverage. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away, watching Jisoo intently as he takes the head between his lips, pressing his tongue hard as the precum leaks. His hand becomes more controlling,  _ demanding, _ grip tightening and tugging at his scalp. He moans around Jihoon’s cock, feeling the latter’s knees blunder as he makes a lewd slurping noise when bobbing back and forth. He takes his time with every dip of his head to trace his tongue over every vein, like Jihoon is a treat he gets one chance to savor.

For air, he slides his mouth off, saliva dripping from his lips as he swallows. Jihoon massages his hair, soothing his hand around his head, but Jisoo shakes it. He wants the sting; he needs the burn on his scalp as his hair is pulled, like how every inch of his body burns in anticipation and lust. He can’t remember the last time he felt so sexually needed; it’s been even longer since he’s felt the yearn to feel pain in that way.  He presses his lips to the head of Jihoon’s cock, letting the vibrations shake him to his core while he pumps it in his hand. He mutters, barely audibly, “Pull it.”

“Hm?” Jihoon asks. His eyes are filled with pleasure.

“Pull my hair.” He adds, “please. I like it.”

Jihoon smiles wickedly, pre-cum seeping from him, and does as requested, grabbing a fist full of Jisoo’s hair and yanking it back, a strangled whimper ripping from the latter’s throat. “Like that?”

Jisoo nods, helplessly closing his knees on the floor to stop the rush of heat to his crotch. Jihoon pushes Jisoo forward, dick slipping right to the back of his throat as he moans loud. 

Jisoo lets out a desperate cry, muffled by skin as he leaves it totally up to Jihoon to manage him. He has his fist clasped around Jisoo’s hair, pressing him on and pulling him off his length while his hips move at similar pace. Jisoo relaxes his throat, slackens his jaw the best he could, his hands brazen against Jihoon’s thighs. His fingers dig in, letting out grunts and whines as he looks up, eyes watering pleadingly. 

God, it’s too perfect. Jisoo must be dreaming. It’s like every night, a copy and paste of the one before where Jisoo is driven to moan into his pillow as he dreams the perfect scenario of him and Jihoon. He’s literally fantasized about the day he’d get his hair pulled the right way, his back scratched, his throat pulsating from being abused and this is  _ fucking it.  _

Jihoon lets out a groan, free hand reaching to wipe the drool from Jisoo’s chin and cup his face. “This is what I want,” he barely whispers. He moves his hips a few more times, somehow gripping Jisoo’s hair tighter and sighing. “You’re gonna swallow all of my cum, right?”

From the atmosphere alone, the tension of being so helpless while Jihoon’s totally in charge, Jisoo’s weak, so he nods, getting ready for when Jihoon finally cums in his mouth. He reaches up with his hands again, Jihoon still moving his head for him so he takes the length of his shaft that’s free and rubs his, jerking his cupped hand up and down to match the pace of his head. 

Jihoon’s head is rolling back and Jisoo can feel high thighs begin to tremor. “Like that, baby.” Jisoo gets another jolt and suddenly takes Jihoon to the hilt. Grunting, Jihoon feeds both hands into Jisoo’s hair and mutters something under his breath. His legs become unstable and he lets out a long hiss, Jisoo being able to feel the twitch of his cock in his mouth before his throat is overrun with Jihoon’s cum. 

He swallows as much as he can manage and sends Jihoon shivering as he looks up with his blissful, hooded eyes, lazily blinking up his thank you’s.

He pulls off finally with a pop, quickly wiping the cum that dribbled from his lip and falling back on his knees, Jihoon’s member lying flaccid by his leg. He clears his throat and feels the heat settle back into his face, cleaning his sweat with his sleeve. He only realized then, as Jihoon tucks himself back into his pants, how  _ hot  _ it is in the room. It’s summer outside, but Jisoo’s certain Jihoon must have the thermostat on or something.

Oh, wait. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that, yeah, he did just give his boss a blow job at barely nine-thirty in the morning, and as the aftermath settles in, the intense feeling of, “Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.” creeps back into his head.

He feels funny in his stomach, an odd, fluttering feeling that makes him feel nauseous and sick and unnaturally  _ disgusted _ . He can’t bring his eyes up, clearing his throat feeling the itch at the back of it. 

Jihoon also clears his throat, and then there’s silence. Jisoo’s once again feeling like a scared little boy in the wake of a harsh scolding, feeling shameful and wrong. Only, this time, he has a hard-on over it. Fuck, he’s ready to launch himself out of the window.

Jisoo knows there are questions burning his mind that need answers (the one at the forefront being  _ what the fuck have I done now?)  _ but for some reason, can’t get the words past his lips. A small part of him now just wants to cry, like he’s achieved nothing in the last fifteen minutes. More so, he wants something from Jihoon. He wants an explanation as the to what in Christ’s name just happened between the two of them. He thinks there  _ has _ to be more.

But there’s nothing. He spares a split second glance at his boss, who’s looking just as awkward and lost as Jisoo feels. Suddenly, the need to cry is at the forefront of his mind. This was all a huge mistake.

Jisoo hastily gets to his knees, the hard-on he sported depressingly sunken and escapes without a look back.

 


	2. II

Jeonghan snaps his fingers in front of Jisoo’s face. “Earth to Hong? Hello?”

Jisoo looks up suddenly after falling into a conscious lapse, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked you how it was.” Jeonghan settles back against the armrest of the sofa. “You zoned out on me. Must’ve been a fun time if you’re still daydreaming about it.”

“Uhm…” Jisoo takes a second to recollect himself. It seems Jeonghan’s right (words Jisoo says a lot, regretfully), because that morning wasn’t something that just happened and Jisoo had kept tucked in the back of his mind. Quite the opposite, actually, every spare second he had throughout the entire week was filled with the memory, like a broken record stuck on loop. And it’d be a lie if he’d said that the mere recollection of it didn’t bring heat to his face. “Good, yeah. I guess…”

“You  _ guess?” _ Jeonghan echoes, folding his arms and looking smugly. “Yeah, your blushing face and sweaty palms really indicate that it was just  _ good.” _

“Well, I don’t really know how to describe it.”

Jeonghan rolls his head back and sighs. “You want to become a journalist but the only adjective you can think of is ‘good’.” He pokes Jisoo’s thigh with his sock-clad toe. “Come on, Jisoo,” he whines, “I’m your best friend, you gotta tell me the juicy bits.”

Laughing shortly, Jisoo pushes his leg away. “What do you mean, ‘juicy bits’? It was quick, nothing special happened.”

“Yeah, no, a totally normal day: walk into the office, drop to your knees for your boss, pick his dry cleaning up–” 

“I don’t pick his dry cleaning up,” Jisoo replies. “I’m sure he has, you know, other people for that.”

“Start from the beginning then, walk me through the experience.” Jeonghan makes Jisoo face him as the latter groans, albeit smiling

“I don’t wanna…”

“No, it’s the laws of best friend-ism, Jisoo, we share our life-changing experiences in depth.” After a pause, Jeonghan patterns his feet along Jisoo’s leg. “Come on! You went into the office…”

“Fine! Fine…” Jisoo sighs and holds the former’s feet still. “I went into the office,” he had no real intention of giving Jeonghan the ‘juicy bits’ and opted for a watered down, less emotionally turmoiled version. “I gave him his coffee and the briefing notes and– you know, usually, in the morning, he smiles at me, but that day he didn’t so I- I was freaking out like,  _ oh, fuck, I’ve messed up **—** _ ”

“Babe, I don’t really care about the sappy bits, just get to the part where you made him cum.”

“I was getting there,” Jisoo argues with a laugh. “Anyway, it was stiff and awkward and he…” He clears his throat, “he said some things and told me to get on my knees and I—”

“Hold on.”

“Can you stop interrupting—”

“He just said, “Get on your knees”?” Jeonghan looks at Jisoo blankly, holding his hands out in confusion.

“Well, he actually just said, “Knees.” but, yeah.”

Again, Yoon Jeonghan - the man with a mouth the size of the Mississippi - is rendered speechless, and Jisoo can only smile sheepishly. “And you  _ did it?” _

“Is… that not normal,” Jisoo jokes, knowing full well it is not. He would’ve thought that, of all people, Jeonghan would be used to that kind of lucid direction to getting frisky, or at least used to hearing about it. But maybe Lee Jihoon is too much for even him, which is a thought-provoking hypothesis and a half.

Jeonghan takes a moment to consider things, before waving his hand. “Right, right, anyway. Continue. You drop–” he sighs, like coming to terms with the inclination himself, “you drop to your knees.”

“And gave him a blowjob.”

“You just–” Jeonghan waves his hand, “went to town?”

“Hmhm.” Jisoo stops and thinks of his sentence clearly. “Like, just— just grabbed it and went in.”

“Just… grabbed it and… went… in?”

Jisoo hums. 

Jeonghan frowns thoughtfully, folding his arms again and slumping into the couch. “Interesting…”

They sit in the quiet for a few moments before the ticking of the clock grew too loud for Jisoo to handle. “Whatcha thinking?” he proses, chewing the inside of his lip. 

“Just about how you, out of everyone in that company trying to climb into your boss’ pants, were the one who got lucky.”

Jisoo had been thinking about that too, deeply, in fact. There are things in life that make perfect sense, like there are things that just go together. Like cookie dough ice cream on a hot day – it makes perfect sense that Ben and Jerry sat down and created such a wonderful flavor of ice cream since everyone who’s not stopped by some medical problem has eaten raw cookie dough in their life. Putting that into an ice cream is just  _ genius.  _ And it works, amazingly. Others argue differently, but in his heart, Jisoo knows the best Ben & Jerry’s flavor is cookie dough because it just goes together with a hot day when you don’t want to eat warm cookies but still want to have that savory sweetness on your tongue.

This, however, is a situation that neither makes sense, nor produces anything that goes together. T his, however, is a situation that neither makes sense, nor produces anything that goes together. How does Hong Jisoo, a meek, unprofitable wannabe journalist, who watches the world pass him by, attract the attention of Lee Jihoon, a rich, successful, powerful CEO who has the world in the palm of his hands? In common sensuous, it just doesn’t happen, and it still doesn’t make sense now that it has happened. They’re incompatible; two extreme ends of the social spectrum. The idea of anything between them is mad, insane, unheard of. He knows an attraction like this will never end happily.

Right?

Jisoo takes a deep breath and replies, “I don’t know.” because he really,  _ really _ doesn’t.

*

Friday is Jisoo’s good day, his ‘feeling himself’ day. It’s the kind of day that you just wake up and feel ready to take on. He’s not a fashion fanatic, but his outfit is on  _ point  _ with the clean, pressed dress shirt and his nice, tight, tan slacks that may or may not have been chosen purposely to show off his rather nicely shaped ass. He strolls out of the elevator, new shoes tapping against the pristine floors that he can see his perfectly styled hair in and sets his things on his tidy, organized desk. He’s not sure why he feels so good on this particular Friday. Maybe it’s because its the end of the week; maybe it’s because the weather is the prefered temperature of not-too-hot-not-too-cold; or maybe it’s because, last night, he had the soundest sleep he’d had all week (which could’ve been due to him having drunk one too many bottles, or the fact that he’d finally gotten his ‘secret’ off his chest). Despite the reason, Jisoo is feeling good, and is not about to let anything reign on his parade.

“Jisoo!” 

Jisoo tugs his earphones out and spins on his heels, his smile ever so slightly faltering at the man standing in the doorway. “Good morning, sir.” He hopes his voice doesn’t sound too shaky. He offers over one of the two coffee cups in his hand. “Black, three sugars, no milk.”

“Jihoon,” he says, and Jisoo looks up confused before realizing.

“Oh, yeah…sorry.” He clears his throat, trying not to let the awkwardness rise like the blush does on his cheeks.

The problem here stems from the fact that, since Monday, neither had dared to mention what had happened. Strange, you suck someone off then carry on like nothing ever happened  – typical! Not that Jisoo’s complaining. He was curled up in the bathroom stall for a good twenty minutes after that, calming himself from a panic attack and dreading that the next thing on his desk would be his letter of mandatory resignation. He expected, if not his wild fantasy where Jihoon was going to sweep him off his feet, at least some awkward conversation about what happens next. But nothing happened. Jisoo returned to his desk, and Jihoon asked him if he could call the firm in New York to set up a conference, just like he would.

He’s tried to avoid his boss as best as he could, however. He didn’t look him too long in the eye, and made sure to keep the chance of their paths crossing a minimum. He denied the offer to join the company for lunch, knowing Jihoon could very well join them. Still, Jisoo found his free minutes taken over by trying to figure some explanation as to why he went along in the cock-sucking parade that was Monday, just in case Jihoon ever asked. And still, he had failed to think of one. 

“I need you to reschedule my 2 P.M meeting, if you could,” Jihoon says and Jisoo nods, thankful for the diversion. 

“Certainly, to when?” He sits down and starts to tap at his computer.

“See if you can fit them in on Monday around… 10 A.M?” 

“You have a pitch at that time, you’re free…” He clicks and pulls up a timesheet, “... at Midday, however.”

Jihoon hums; he’s right behind Jisoo and the latter can’t help but swallow thickly from the scent of his enticing aftershave. An average scent, an expensive brand; it smells like money, “That’ll do. Thank you, Jisoo.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” He stops and chews his lip, peeking over his shoulder to see Jihoon smiling down at him. Oh, the feelings that brought to him. He looks away quickly and swallows again, this time, harder. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I’ll work on that.” 

The pain here stems from the fact that, although thankful for the lack of comeuppance, Jisoo still hopelessly wants something to change. He still goes to bed thinking how, tomorrow, he could go to work and be met with a whole confession speech from Jihoon, and they’d ride off into the sunset together happily ever after. He still hopes that, at least, Jihoon could acknowledge something inside him that lead him to want Jisoo so badly and find he’s wanted just as much too. Jisoo still wants his happy ending from this madness, and the more he looks at Jihoon, the more he feels the desperation for  _ something _ to happen crawl further and further up his throat.

*

Jisoo knew the calm was too good to last. 

At lunch he knocks on Jihoon’s door, popping his head in when asked to enter. “I’m heading on my lunch,” he informs, “would you like anything?”

Jihoon sits at his desk, shoes off, legs tucked under him (Jisoo is sure he’s the only CEO he knows that’ll sit in such a way in the middle of the day). He looks up from his computer screen, eyes pondering on Jisoo for a second before he replies, “No, thank you, Jisoo.”

(Jisoo really wishes he’d stop saying his name, it sounds so good coming from his lips -  _ too _ good.)

Jisoo nods and turns to leave, only to be stopped.

“Wait, Jisoo.”

As he turns, Jihoon’s looking at him, and Jisoo tries to not get lost in his soft eyes. He’s missed looking at them. He remembers the first time he fell into them, like some nostalgic memory of a time when things were simple. They scanned over his resume, flicking back and forth between the paper and the boy sitting opposite. He hummed every now and again, pink tongue wetting his lips that shone from the lights in the interview room. Jisoo didn’t think CEOs were the one to interview employees, alas, there he sat, quiet; thinking.

“What do you know about entrepreneuring?” the lady sat next to Jihoon asks.

_ Fuck.  _ Jisoo knew nothing about it; nada, none. His mind had wandered many places during those boring hours in the library which should’ve been spent studying, but being an entrepreneur wasn’t one of them. 

He opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted.

“He’s not here for that, though,” Jihoon said. “He’s applying to be a personal assistant, I’m sure the qualifications for that are no more than basic necessities.” He spared Jisoo a soft smile, his eyes curling up into his cheeks as he did so and, oh,  _ God,  _ did Jisoo’s heart do a spasm in his chest. He’d forgotten what he was there for, as he let his eyes bore into the boss’s. “You’re organized, I’ll take it?” 

Jisoo nodded, “I like to think so - my roommate is always nagging at me, I have a habit of putting things away in places he’s not used to them being, so they’re neat.” That didn’t really sound efficient. “... A-As opposed to them being left around… which  _ he  _ has a habit of doing…”  _ Well done, Jisoo.  _ There was a silence as Jihoon smiled to himself. “When can you start?” 

The lady, who had quietened down, suddenly spoke up again, looking over her red, horn-rimmed glasses (she really did look like every stereotypical receptionist you could imagine). “Mr, Lee… don’t you want to interview any other applicant? Surely there are people who…” she looked Jisoo up and down, and he shrank into the seat, “... would be better suited to the role.”

“He’ll be my assistant, Yeoreum, you won’t have to worry.” All the while, his eyes never left Jisoo, who hoped his face didn’t look too red.

He called Jeonghan after gaining relief from the wind outside. “I got the job.”

_ “Congrats, dude. Is your boss hot?” _

Jisoo bit his lip, looking up at the thirty-three-floor building. “Quite.”

_ “How unprofessional of you.” _

Jisoo laughed and hummed. “Don’t worry, it’s a crush. I won’t let it get out of hand.”

Ha. Six-months-ago Jisoo was so naive. 

Suddenly, staring deep into Jihoon’s eyes, Jisoo felt the familiar bubble, common to him when he let his mind wander too far. He swallows past the thickness of his throat drying up, blinks a few times like he’s trying to see past the lustful mist descending over his mind. He sees Jihoon in his entirety, and is suddenly sent flying back into the endless cycle of daydreams and wet ones full of fantasizing over such a perfect man.

“Yes?” Jisoo replies. He holds the door open with his foot and stands with his body half in the room. He tries to tell himself the pounding in his ears is the start of an oncoming headache and not the nervous beating of his heart (he honestly doesn’t know which is worse).

Jihoon opens his mouth, like the words of what he wants to say are on the tip of his tongue, before closing it, smiling. “Enjoy your lunch.” 

Jisoo’s heart unknowingly sinks, and he nods, muttering, “Thank you,” before leaving with the most believable smile he could give.

*

An hour before his work day ends, Jisoo sits at his desk, eyes flashing between the freelance piece he was writing and the  _ Cosmopolitan  _ article titled, ‘What to Do if You Have a Crush on Your Boss.’ Of course, at this point, Jisoo’s sure he’s passed the crush base, and is more on the level of infatuation, but he keeps that to himself for now. He subconsciously taps the shift key until the sticky keys notice pops up with a ping, over and over again. After thinking, he finally punches into the search bar:  _ how to tell if your boss has a crush on you  _ and hits search.

He’s exhausted all other explanations as to why Jihoon would make such a move in the way he did. He thought: it could have been a random act of sexual desire, thinking Lee Jihoon must be a horny bastard like the rest of them - but then again, he could’ve just paid for a prostitute who probably would’ve given a  _ much  _ better service. It could’ve been that he somehow knew Jisoo was entering that common phase of  _ I need a dick, quick  _ and had decided to offer some friendly help - but Jihoon isn't psychic, how could he tell Jisoo was itching to get fucked by someone, unless Jisoo was making it blatantly obvious? (which, if he does say so himself, he’s good at not doing.) Also, they’re not that good of friends, that’s more of Jeonghan’s level of intimacy. He also scoured the depths of his mind and thought of the option that maybe it was Jihoon’s personal, twisted way of disciplining his staff, and Jisoo had, in fact, accidently signed up for a Fifty Shades of Grey-esque contract as well as becoming an assistant, just with less of the BDSM name being tarnished in the process. In all honesty, Jisoo, shamelessly, doesn’t think he’d mind that, but hopes it would leave out the emotional and mental abuse that the book did.

To him, nothing at all was making sense. This was his final conclusion. 

Jisoo clicks on the first article, and begins to read.

**_#1: You have a gut feeling._ **

After reading over some drivel about how gut feelings have some basis in science, Jisoo dismisses the reason, for the last time he fatefully trusted his gut, he ended up in a car park, pissed drunk with nothing but a hoodie and shorts on in the middle of winter (another addition in his and Jeonghan’s _ ‘Let’s Never Talk About When…’  _ collection).

**_#2: They flirt._ **

_ “Be very cautious when interpreting someone else's intentions behind their actions.” _

Jisoo puts his chin in his palm and thinks. He tries to reminisce a time wherein Jihoon’s been anything further than nice to him - meaning bar the times he’s bought him a drink at a company dinner, or left a little chocolate on his desk as thanks. Nothing jumps out at him; it seems Jihoon’s just been your average nice guy, so Jisoo goes on to the next.

**_#3: They regularly scheduled private or late-night meetings._ **

Yeah, right.

**_#9: They invite you to spend time with them outside of work._ **

Jisoo ponders on this one for a moment.

_ “It might just be a simple coffee after work…” _

Jihoon had, once or twice, brought up the suggestion he and Jisoo get some food sometime, and Jisoo’s never thought much into it. Sooyoung, over in marketing, asks him for drinks; Seokmin invites him out for a BBQ with the interns. Jisoo doesn’t think this would prove much other than the company’s a nice place. So he moves on.

**_#14: They make physical contact._ **

God forbid humans actually  _ touch  _ one another on occasion, in these good Christian Suburbs? The only conclusions Jisoo draws are that a) he just wasted twenty minutes of his time reading that article and b) straight relationships are a lot more intense than he thought.

He’s starting to think maybe he’s grasping at straws by thinking he and Jihoon were on the same page.

Over the intercom built into his desk, Jihoon’s voice crackles, “Jisoo, can I see you for a second?” and the familiar racing of his heart and nervous acrobatics in his stomach make their appearance. Jisoo closes the tab and makes his way to Jihoon’s door, hesitating before he finally knocks and enters.

“When I call you from the intercom, I’m expecting you,” Jihoon says as the heavy door closes behind Jisoo. He’s watching the city, the sun starting to sink behind the skyscrapers, but the hazy summer glow is still cast over the streets. “You don’t need to knock.”

Jisoo smiles, despite Jihoon having his back turned, and wipes his clammy hands on his pants. “Force of habit. Do you need anything?”

Jihoon lets out an exhale and turns to look at Jisoo. “No, not really, I just…” He approaches but stops at his desk, leaning against the front of it, just like before. (Jisoo has some sort of sexual flashback.) “... wanted to talk.”

Jisoo bites his tongue, the hope swelling in his gut like a balloon. He doesn’t even know what he’s hoping for. He nods.

“About Monday.”

Jisoo stops nodding, and his mouth falls into an ‘o’ shape.  _ Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck. _ This is it. It’s happening.

“I just…” Jihoon takes a second, looking up at the lights lining his ceiling. “I acted unprofessionally. I feel guilty, it’s like I was… taking advantage of you, almost.”

Jisoo processes in his head, before shaking it. “Not at all!” he replies, a little too enthusiastically.

Jihoon stuffs his hands into his pockets as Jisoo winces at his own demeanor.

“What I mean to say is, like, I was willing… I mean, not _willing_ – well, yes, of course willing, but…” he sighs helplessly. “I’m not making sense, am I?”

“Not particularly.” Jihoon laughs, cheeks bunching up like they did on the day of the interview and Jisoo melts inside. He feels his guard loosen and falter, the walls protecting himself from embarrassment crumbling. Jihoon has that kind of effect on him, making him feel relaxed and calm and not like a dumb slut. “I don’t want things to be… awkward, or uncomfortable. For you.”

_ Are they not for you?  _ Jisoo shakes his head. “Not at all,” he says again. 

Jihoon quirks an eyebrow, his face somewhat lighting up. “Really?”

Jisoo lets out a laugh. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought – ” He bites down hard on his lip, his own way to stop the word vomit spilling everywhere. Jihoon looks at him intently, and he clears his throat. “I mean, though… who  _ hasn’t  _ thought of that, you know?” He scratches his neck and chuckles awkwardly, his cheeks so hot you could fry an egg with them. “You’re like…”  _ Okay, shut up now  _ “... super hot and all, and…”  _ You are such a moron, Jisoo.  _ He swallows. “Yeah…”

Jihoon’s eyes lingering on him don’t help with the shame. The boss snorts a laugh and looks away, finally. “Yeah, well… You’re not the only one...”

Jisoo frowns, words slipping from his lips like soap from his hands. “You fantasize about yourself?”

He really wishes he could have Jeonghan with him throughout the day to give him a slap when he needs one.

Jihoon laughs again. “No.” He stands and walks to the small area to his left, sunken by a few steps and has a purposefully placed collection of leather chairs, a couch, and a clear glass coffee table in the middle. He bites his lip (Jisoo’s knees faltering), leaning against the armrest of one of them. “I fantasize about you, actually.”

Oh. That’s just given Jisoo the weirdest heart boner ever.

“Me?” he stammers, eyes big and surprised by pure habit.

Jihoon looks at him like the world’s stopped spinning. “Jisoo , I–” He inhales and considers his words carefully. “I’m kind of whipped for you.”

Jisoo thinks he’s about to pass out. He needs to pinch himself, is he dreaming ?

“But, I mean, like…” Jihoon continues. “In this weird way, no matter what you do I’m like, incredibly enamored.”

Jisoo nods along, keeping his eyes on Jihoon before his confidence falters and he looks to the floor. “I think I’m going insane.”

“Why?”

Jisoo looks at him again. “Are you trying to say… you’re, like,  _ into  _ me.”

Jihoon smiles. “Yeah, I’m– I’m quite…  _ into  _ you.”

Jisoo doesn’t know if he should be happy or scared. He’s rehearsed this in his head a hundred times, how when Jihoon confesses, he’ll tell him he’s been in love with him from the very start and that now they can start their wonderful budding relationship together and the rest will be history. But now that it’s happening: Lee Jihoon is telling him he’s into him, that this could be the something new Troy and Gabriella sang about, nothing feels right about. Like a dream so unrealistic it could never be true.

“Oh, geez,” Jisoo says. 

Jihoon’s really handsome fucking face falters and Jisoo feels as if he’s just kicked a puppy. “You’re not… into me?”

“No, no, shit, it’s not like that!” Jisoo replies. “It’s just that… I mean,  _ dude, _ you’re  _ you.  _ And I’m me.”

That’s the lapse in this whole ideal world. That at the end of the day, Jisoo is still going to be the boy living on the west-side of the city, barely paying rent and living where the wind takes him, and Jihoon’s going to be the man living in the high tower, taking people’s rents and being the one who blows the wind. In, short, Jisoo isn’t sure he can handle all of what Jihoon is, and Jihoon can’t be the one to handle him.

Jihoon pauses. “I’m not following.”

Jisoo doesn’t have the strength to put his thoughts into words properly. “I don’t know,” he admits with a smile. “I’m kind of just not sure where my feelings should lie.”

Honest enough; it’s semi-true. 

Jihoon seems understanding enough and nods. “Are you free tonight?”

Jisoo’s taken back. “Free?”

“I’d like to take you to dinner, if you’d like to join me.”

Jisoo’s eyes resort to their surprise. “Oh, I–”  _ wasn’t expecting that.  _ “I–uh.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Jihoon says with his voice so soft it could melt metal. “I mean, I meant to ask on Monday, because generally, blowjobs happen after dinner, but I guess I have a habit of being a bit backward.”

Nothing still makes sense to Jisoo, but he’s too lost in Jihoon’s smile to really care. “I’d love to,” he says. “Thank you.”

Jihoon lets out a deep exhale like he was holding his breath. “Great. I’ll meet you in the foyer in twenty.”

Jisoo leaves his office and collapses into his desk chair. All he can hear is his heart thumping in his ears, deafeningly beautiful, yet feels a toxic mix of happiness and regret surging through his veins. 


	3. III

Jisoo looks up at the sparkling building in awe. All six or so stories were illuminated by golden lights above a shimmering sign, warning its presence for miles. It was the kind of place you see dudes like James Bond rock up to fight some bad guys and drink a martini while he’s at it. Jisoo gulps, the restaurant looming over him intimidatingly, the street scattered with like-minded casuals who gaze and the few familiars who waltz through the revolving doors like walking into the common post office. The whole establishment reeks of wealth, power, and success and Jisoo shrinks a little smaller into his coat.

Jihoon stands next to him after instructing the driver of his Mercedes to pick them up later. He sees Jisoo’s eyes, big with daunting curiosity staring up. “Never eaten here before?”

Jisoo lets out a dry chuckle and blinks. That was an understatement - he’s never even dared to step on red carpet walkway under the canopy of this place, or anywhere else on the block. From the second he left the car, Jisoo knew he was out of place. “You could say that.”

Jihoon smiles and nods his head towards the door, hand on the small of Jisoo’s back as he leads him in.

If possible, the inside is even grander than the outside. Everything is gleaming - from the mirrors lining the ceiling that reflect down, to the floor, polished to perfection that reflect up; every piece of furniture sits clean and smart like it’s lined with gold. The whole foyer could pay Jisoo’s rent for the rest of his life.

Jihoon leads him into the dining room, once nodding at the hostess socially. The floor was wide and spacious, with variations of table sizes comfortably placed to maximize the number of customers. It’s full, as expected for a Friday evening, but a single table with two chairs at opposite ends sits unoccupied in the corner until the pair are seated comfortably. Jisoo takes his time to gaze around, taking in every chandelier dangling from the high roof, to the red, velvety carpet plush under his feet. The buzz of the open kitchen catches his attention, professional chefs doing their work diligently while servers, arms full of trays, trail in and out.

“You look overwhelmed.”

Jisoo looks over to Jihoon, leaning on his arms with an endearing smile and lets out a breath, “I am,” he chuckles. “It’s just so…” he looks around once more, “grand.” Jisoo sits very out of place: from his attire, his work clothes that stand stark in comparison with Jihoon’s suave black suit, to his demeanor, sinking scared into his seat as the chatter and clatter and plates fill him from every angle.

Jihoon hums in agreement, taking the complimentary bottle of wine and pouring some in Jisoo’s glass. “Well, living large, and all that.”

“Hold on,” Jisoo reaches over and looks at the bottle. “That's a bottle of _Château Margaux._ 2009 edition… Those sold for like 195k a bottle.” Suddenly his stomach lurches. How in God’s name is he going to able to pay to eat here?

“You know your wines,” Jihoon says, setting the bottle down and looking intriguingly at Jisoo.

“Oh, my mom grew up working on a vineyard in Napa Valley. I was born there before we moved to the city.”

Jihoon quirks an eyebrow and Jisoo nods.

“Yeah, like how some kids grow up with knowledge about cars or planes… mine was wine, which sounds a lot worse than it is.”

Jihoon laughs and picks up his glass, Jisoo quickly doing the same. “You’re a man of fine taste. I like that.”

Timidly, he takes a sip, mimicking as Jihoon does and smiles. Oh, right, yeah, there’s an issue at hand: Jisoo is still fucking confused. The last half of his day has made his mind utter mush. The sheer speed at what everything had just happened not only lowered his common sense to the point of incomprehension, it’s just totally been kicked out. He didn’t go to work this morning thinking he’d be eating in a 20-star restaurant later! He was meant to having Chinese with Jeonghan, Christ! He so badly wants to piece together the scraps of hints Jihoon’s throwing him (“I fantasize about you, actually.”; “I’m kind of whipped for you, Jisoo.”; “I like that.”) and formulate a sensible conclusion, but all that springs to his mind is the idea that Jihoon likes him too. Jisoo doesn’t want to think about it, so he doesn’t. Yet, at least.

But stands now is the question: how does he act? Does act normal, coy, flirty, seductive? It’s like, recently, all Jisoo seems to be asking himself is what does he do, like he’s a little, lost kid in a store.

“I’m a man of… many things.”

Well, he doesn't know what the fuck that was, but goes with it nonetheless.

Jihoon’s lips curl into a smile and he peeks over at the menu. “I’ll second that.” He nods his head. “Choose whatever you like, it’s on me.”

Jisoo scans the menu as he knee bounces nervously. Everything on the menu must have platinum shavings over it, since every dish exceeds Jisoo’s pay by the ten folds. And it’s mostly in French. He took a course in high school, but the only knowledge he actually retained was some conversational sentences and some curse words his friends searched up. He may know how to cuss out an old man in the language, but ordering cuisine was too much for him.

The waiter comes and hastily urges an order. Jihoon reads his desire off flawlessly, while Jisoo’s eyes frantically search for something he understands.

“Sir?”

He snaps his head up, the waiter waiting condescendingly with judgment dripping from his eyes. It’s like some freaky feeling like he knew all of Jisoo’s dark secrets and was using them as means for his displacement. “... I’ll just take a salad.”

“Would you like the Niçoise or the Mesclun?”

_Oh, for fuck's sake._ Jisoo’s eyes widen, and he looks blankly at the menu. “Uhm…”

“Do you eat fish?” Jihoon asks suddenly. Jisoo nods. “The Niçoise.” He explains as the waiter leaves, “It’s a salad with anchovy in it.”

Jisoo nods, his stomach feeling weak and queasy. “Thank you, I needed saving.” He really doesn’t belong here.

“Are you sure that’s all you want?” Jihoon distracts him with his inviting eyes, boring right into Jisoo’s soul. “It’s not very filling.”

Jisoo hates how well just a single smile from Jihoon seems to ease him into comfort, blur the background and make it seem like it’s only them that matter. He smiles back, replying, “I had a big lunch.”

 

*

 

“Favourite film, go.”

Jisoo sets down his third (and final, hopefully) glass of the evening. “I’m feeling like I’m at another interview. And it’s impossible for me to choose something like that.”

Jihoon laughs, genuinely - he’s been doing a lot of that. “Okay, favorite genre then.”

“Uhm…” Jisoo runs his finger around the rim of the glass and thinks. “Horror.”

Jihoon makes a face.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of horror films

Jihoon picks up his drink. “Of course not, I’m a CEO. I’m scared of nothing.”

Jisoo chuckles. “But, then again, I do enjoy everything. Most things prior to 2000. He picks some of his food left on the plate. “With the exception of _Inglourious Basterds._ ”

“Like your Tarantino films?”

“Is that even a question?”

Jisoo thinks maybe the amount of wine that’s gone down his neck that evening has been a helping hand rather than the deterrent it usually is. Jisoo knew he was sitting stiff as a stone earlier in the night; he was intimidated by the entire concept of such a fancy restaurant, sitting in front of such a perfect man. It’s like he was back in high school, worried with the pressures of impressing his crush, but after a second glass of the _Château_ , he felt the reigns loosen, his body become free and his mindless clouded with panicky instincts of embarrassment.

Jihoon rubs his eyes, grinning wide as he mutters, “God, could you get any more wonderful?”

Jisoo stops and looks at him, fingers digging into his thighs as if releasing would result in a total collapse of his structure. “Can I ask you something?” He can't stop his mouth.

“Of course.”

“What…” He rolls his lips together, thinking as carefully as his alcohol blemished mind would allow. “Is… this?”

Jihoon frowns at him. “What do you mean?”

The tension is suddenly back on, the bustle of the dining room hollowing out as they look at one another. “What are you doing here?” He adds, “With me.”

Jihoon settles back into his chair, taking in every inch of Jisoo that he can. A muster of emotions flusters behind his eyes that Jisoo is itching to unravel. He’s so full of mystery, Jisoo thinks. It’s so alluring how enigmatic one man could be. He sparks so much curiosity in Jisoo that it’s impossible to leave it unturned. He takes a breath in before answering, “I’m trying to sway you.”

It sounds a lot blunter than Jisoo had imagined. Then again, Lee Jihoon doesn’t look like a man ready to sprout some Shakespearean monologue.

“Oh.”

The corner of Jihoon’s lips quirk into a smile. “I mean what I said earlier, Jisoo.”

Jisoo palms prick with sweat and it’s hard to focus on one thing at once. Jihoon continues:

“I’m not trying to seduce you because I think you’d be a pretty thing to fuck.” He leans forward, a tempting expression with his eyes captivating. Jisoo’s heart stops. “There’s something about you. Something I want.”

Jisoo guesses this must have some sobering effect on him, because suddenly, he feels frighteningly aware of everything. In honesty, this is what he wants to hear - months of pining for someone so out of his league really have been worth it - but he knows he shouldn’t be. “Let me guess,” he swallows, “you always get what you want?”

If looks could give orgasms, Jihoon’s just given him one.

Jisoo feels his legs be pushed apart under the table, the top of Jihoon’s foot scaling along the inside of his thigh. He clasps his teeth around his bottom lip as his hands grasp the table edge. Jihoon chuckles, and it sends heat straight to Jisoo’s cock.

“You intrigue me, Jisoo-ah.”

“Don’t…” Jisoo inhales deeply, “say my name like that…”

There’s chaff in Jihoon’s voice as he carries on, his foot rubbing teasingly by the top of Jisoo’s leg. “Don’t tell me you’ve not thought of me the way I’ve thought of you.”

“Wha…” Jisoo swallows down the whimper crawling up his throat. “What way would that be?” Of course, he already knows.

Jihoon presses against him, hard, and a moan tears past Jisoo’s lips. He smacks his hand over his mouth and looks up, almost tearing as his cheeks flush deep. “You know you’ve thought of me bending you over my desk, just as I’ve thought of the same.” Jihoon curls his toes, rubbing over Jisoo’s hardon and taunts, “Tell me what you want.”

Jisoo lets out a choked, broken whisper. “You.”

“When?”

His leg bounces in anticipation. “N-now.”

“How?”

Jihoon plays him like a fucking puppet. “Any way.”

Jihoon’s foot suddenly leaves, Jisoo’s nails releasing from the table wood with unwanted uncertainty. He watches Jihoon as he calls, “Cheque, please.” And stands.

“Where–”

Jihoon silences him by leaning down, holding the back of his head, and pressing their lips together into a kiss. Jisoo couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own heart. Blood rushed to his ears, his cheeks pinkening as it sinks into him that he’s got the lips of the country’s twelfth richest man on his. Underneath that, it’s Jihoon; stripping it down, it’s the man he’s been head over heels for for what feels like an eternity kissing him like they’re the only two in the room.

It’s the kind of kiss that you see in the movies that makes people stop and gush, but no one around them bats an eyelid. Jihoon threads his fingers into Jisoo’s hair, gently, completely the opposite to Monday, and just… kisses him. Lips warm and soft, moving against Jisoo’s that respond automatically. He’d almost forgotten that just seconds ago, Jihoon had asserted he’d be getting some dick, and it rushes back to him like the sounds of the room do as Jihoon pulls away.

“My place,” he says. “Let me take you to mine.”

Uh, let me think about that. “Please.”

Jisoo barely sees the sights of the city surrounding Jihoon’s apartment from the car - he’s too busy having his dick palmed over his slacks and hickeys bitten over his neck. Jisoo tries to keep his noises low, biting his lip and watching the driver cautiously in the rearview mirror. “Jihoon,” he whispers, afraid that if he opens his mouth for long enough his moans will reverberate around the car, “y-your drive–”

“I pay him to take no notice of what happens in the back of this car.” Every word he utters makes Jisoo shiver. Jihoon twists awkwardly in his seat belt, tipping Jisoo’s head to get a good leverage on his neck. He leaves a big, red mark just above Jisoo’s collarbone, and the latter lets out a sigh.

“How am I supposed to hide that?”

Jihoon groans, “You worry so much.” before gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him in for a passionate kiss. Jisoo finds quickly he’s more addicted to the taste of Jihoon’s lips than he ever thought; the taint of alcohol making him drunker than he needs to be. Jihoon’s fingers undo his pants and he slips his hand in, palming Jisoo hard. He moans into Jihoon’s mouth, Jihoon kissing him breathlessly through.

As they pull into the parking lot of a building Jisoo doesn’t even know the name of, the driver seems to disappear as the pair bundle out themselves, stumbling through the car park with no means of letting their hands leave one another. Jisoo goes to wander towards one of the two big, spacious elevators to the left, only to have Jihoon pull him towards a smaller lift on the right. It’s like Jihoon’s lips have intoxicated him more, making him drowsy and desperate in want. He leans panting against the wall, Jihoon playing for a moment with the elevator keypad, before again bunching Jisoo by the shirt and shoving him gracefully into the lift.

Jisoo’s body enters autopilot, feeling the warmth of Jihoon trapping him in as he’s kissed messy and rough. He hooks his arms around Jihoon’s shoulders, pulling the two of them flush as Jihoon’s hand pulls one thigh up and around his waist. Jisoo can feel his hard-on pressing against his own, rubbing and teasing and making them both groan simultaneously.

“Jihoon…” he gasps, head falling back against the glass as Jihoon bites another hickey to his neck. “God, fuck me.” He sounds so desperate and so needy that wants to die, but he can’t bring himself to care.

The elevator dings, the doors slide open and Jihoon growls in his ear. “Funnily enough, I was planning on.”

Jihoon’s apartment is dark as they tumble into it, hitting every surface with their mouths preoccupied. Up against some wall, Jisoo finally gets to tugging off the belt around Jihoon’s pants, the care he once took forgotten as Jihoon’s slacks are left on the laminate floor.

Jihoon starts to unbutton Jisoo’s shirt, grunting before tearing it clean open, fabric ripping as Jisoo gasps and kisses him impossibly harder. He mutters, “That was my favorite shirt.”

“Get your ass upstairs.”

Jisoo stumbles up some wooden steps Jihoon ends up having to guide him to. He doesn’t stop climbing until Jihoon passes, grabs his wrist and drags him to a distant room. The sweet relief of a mattress against his spine is heaven. He barely has time to stretch himself across it, a bed so big it could accommodate more than two comfortably, before Jihoon’s sitting on his hips, pulling the scraps of his shirt off.

He knows his lips are already swollen, bright and irritated, but he can’t stop kissing Jihoon. The euphoria of the restaurant has been replaced by an exhilaration of new sorts, one that takes control of his entire body and sends him thrush into the arms of neediness. His arms come up naturally, smoothing over Jihoon’s spine as the latter’s fingers work to untangle Jisoo from his pants.

Jihoon pulls his dress shirt over his shoulders, not bothering with the buttons as he smiles down at Jisoo, tugging the slacks from the latter and pressing the lower half to his teasingly.

Jisoo lets his hands nest in Jihoon’s hair then, dropping his head back onto the satin pillows and letting out a moan. He can feel Jihoon’s smile against his already bitten and bruised neck, now littered with red and purple marks. It still feels surreal, like Jisoo’s going to wake up any moment and again be met with the dark of his own room and his own cold hand around his dick.

“Imagine what I could do with this wonderful body,” Jihoon mutters as his hands dance up Jisoo’s torso. Jisoo keens to the touch and bites his lip. _Boy, has he already._

“Anything,” he replies breathily, raising his hips to meet Jihoon’s lips while he slides Jisoo’s underwear to the floor.

“Anything?” Jihoon asks. His fingers gently grace Jisoo’s length and the other sucks in a sharp breath.

“Anything.”

“I like the sound of that.”

It’s hard not to writhe so much under Jihoon’s touch, and Jisoo comes close to pulling his hair as Jihoon lowers himself, hand circling Jisoo’s cock and pumping once or twice, the head of it dipping between his lips. He responds with moans and sighs and looks down, meeting Jihoon’s eyes that look back to him, dangerously.

“Oh, Christ.”

Jihoon hollows his cheeks around Jisoo, swallowing and moving his lips up and down while keeping his eyes perfectly lidded and trained on Jisoo. His hands firmly grip Jisoo’s thighs, pushing them up and using his slim fingers to trace rings against the latter’s entrance. Jisoo can’t quite believe it as he again rolls his head back and groans‒ that he’s really being serviced by Jihoon. Ripples of excitement team with the static scouring his spine from Jihoon’s touch, making Jisoo grip Jihoon’s hair just a bit tighter. He moans with every small movement, whole body reacting with vigour to the pleasure.

Jihoon kneels eventually and brings himself to Jisoo for another kiss, lips too looking red and abused. He tugs down his underwear as Jisoo keeps his mouth distracted, their tongues massaging together, teeth clinking carelessly. Jihoon haphazardly reaches to the draw on his right and fishes through, bringing out a small vial of clear liquid and unscrewing the black cap.

“Turn,” he orders and Jisoo is quick to obey, even more so when Jihoon lands his hand hard on his ass. “Up.”

Jisoo bunches a pillow up under his chest, grabbing another for his face as he lifts his hips up, resting on his knees. Just for luck, Jihoon smacks him again, another choke emitting from his throat as Jihoon chuckles.

“Cute little slut, aren’t you?” He slaps Jisoo’s thigh this time, hard enough to leave a mark. “Like that?”

Jisoo feels the cool liquid from the vial‒ lubricant, and the expensive kind too, drip down the small of his back to his ass, moaning when two equally coated fingers press against the rim. “Yes,” he replies, purring desperately and craning a look over his shoulder. All this time the desperation had been building in his chest, crawling to his throat and grasping like he had Jisoo in a choke hold. It was just about to blow. He looks at Jihoon pleadingly.

“Don’t tease me, please,” he begs. “Please, I just need it.”

Jihoon eases one digit into Jisoo, who responds gratefully with a hum and a moan and even more words.

“Shit, like that,” he whispers, feeling the embarrassment lose the battle against need as he wiggles his ass back to Jihoon. “More.”

Jihoon kisses down his spine, a move that causes a shiver to coarse through Jisoo. “You’re impatient.”

“And you’re stalling.” _Smack!_ Jisoo lets out a pleasured moan.

“Shush.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jihoon laughs and kisses Jisoo ear. “Where have you been my whole life?” He quickly presses two digits to the hit into Jisoo, who panders out approvingly.

“Please, faster‒ more, please.”

Jihoon complies assuringly, moving fingers in and out as he moves his lips to Jisoo’s shoulder, to his back, sinking his teeth into the tan skin. He adds a third, twisting them inside Jisoo until their comfortable and breeches him with just the tip of a fourth.

“What was it you said earlier, baby?”

Jisoo has to close his knees as the heat rushes to his cock. “Hm?”

Jihoon tangles his fingers into Jisoo’s hair suddenly, lifting his head from the pillow to say again.

“What do you want?”

The sting ripples around Jisoo’s head, Jihoon gripping like he talons. He doesn’t let go and sinks his teeth down into his shoulder when he still is met with no clear answer. Jisoo’s dick leaks, dripping into a tiny pool on the bed sheets.

“Fuck me!” Jisoo gasps. “Oh, Jesus, Jihoon, please. God‒ _fuck,_ please, I need your cock in me right now.” Shame is so distant, it’s in another country. “Fuck me hard and fast and, fuck, like you hate me, please.”

Jihoon rolls Jisoo over on his back and pulls his legs up to his shoulders. He presents a condom from his bedside cabinet and rips it open with his teeth. He rolls it on to his length, lining his cock up to Jisoo and pressing the latter’s knees further.

Jisoo lets out a hopeless whine as Jihoon inches himself in. He curls his fingers into the rose gold sheets, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip as his eyes screw closed. The stretch, the slight sharp pain from it aches in such a wanton way, even as Jihoon pulls away to drizzle the lubricant over his member again. “Good, baby?”

Jisoo gets shivers again. He nods and opens his eyes, doe-like and innocent for Jihoon. “Please.”

Jihoon chuckles again, pushing Jisoo’s legs apart to be able to kiss him messily again. With that, he eases his hips to Jisoo’s skin, sinking inside him as a gasp and a moan ricochets from the other.

“Shit,” he whispers, lips parting just enough for Jihoon to take his bloody bottom one between his teeth. “Jihoon, _shit_ ‒” He drops his head again and Jihoon takes his teeth to his neck, hooking his legs under Jisoo’s knees and shuffling to sit on his calves. He rocks his hips back and forth experimentally, watching as Jisoo writhes; feeling as he clenches around him; listening as he hums and moans and pleads.

“More,” he whispers, and Jihoon knows he can’t say no to those silvery eyes.

Jisoo mewls, back arching and cock leaking as Jihoon takes his thrusts to a higher pace. “God, you drive me crazy, baby boy.” He pulls their hips together harder and Jisoo feels the crane of pleasure deep in his gut. It doesn’t leave, Jihoon hitting him hard again and again; changing so he lay over Jisoo’s lips crushed together and scoring new places.

Jisoo wraps his arms around Jihoon’s shoulders, nails clamping down into the skin and scratching. “Fuck, right there!” he gasps. His mind rushes black the harder Jihoon snaps his hips into him, the bed staying still with the rhythm of their bodies. “Jihoon,” he moans. His body pulsates with pleasure, crawling from his stomach to his groin, accelerating as Jihoon spares a hand to wrap around his cock. His grip isn’t hard, but Jisoo’s whole body tenses as his fingers pump it quick.

“Yes, _yes, Jihoon,”_ Jisoo cries. It’s so close he can’t even comprehend anything but indulgence. He rolls his shoulders, clings to Jihoon like he’s a lifeline and winds his legs to clench around Jihoon’s waist, feeling the snap in his gut and the prickle of ecstasy over his skin. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop, Jihoon, fuck‒ _fuck!”_ He swings his arms above his head and grips the bed frame, knuckles fading to white as he lets out a loud moan, hips rocking up and releasing.

Jihoon grunts as he feels Jisoo’s body clench and paint their bodies with come. “Fuck, baby,” he whispers into Jisoo’s ear. He briefly bites the skin and sits back on his knees, taking in the latter’s flushed skin and body sheen with sweat. He takes Jisoo’s chin in his hand and makes sure their eyes stay connected as he pulls out, discards his condom and works himself up and down.

Jisoo’s body is full of jitters as he watches Jihoon jerk himself off. He takes the hand holding his face and brings it to his lips, chest still heaving and body hot as he slips the other’s fingers into his mouth, residue of himself on them.

Jihoon lols his head back and moans, Jisoo quivering at the sound. He watches, lidded eyes relishing in the sight of Jihoon releasing too, his face etching over in a beautiful. He drops his head back, exhausted, still panting after Jihoon’s mess merges with his own.

The atmosphere starts to settle around them. Jihoon collapses next to Jisoo, the pair staring up at the chandelier on the ceiling as their heavy breaths echo around the room. Familiar exhaustion starts to wash over Jisoo. Exhaustion and the sickly feeling creeping back into his gut of _what now?_ He was so whisked up in everything that just happened, he doesn’t even know where to begin with another step. He tries to keep his eyes open‒ questions plaguing his mind that he wants answers for. His limbs are heavy and before he can stop himself, he’s letting the unknown haunt his dreams instead.

 


	4. IV

 

Jisoo wakes up with silk engulfing his body, falling over him like how clouds fall over the sky. The sun that floods through the windows glare into his tired eyes, making them ache, making him groan as he buries his face into the pillow. He stretches his limbs, joints cracking as he relieves his stiff body from sleep. Jisoo hasn’t slept that well in a long, long time, and takes a minute to stare at the beautiful landscape of skyscrapers peeking out in front the hilly mountain tops lining the horizon, the sun already high in the sky. Suddenly his stomach drops. The bed is comfortable - too comfortable, and not his own. His face falls and his eyes jar around the room: stylish, big, luxurious; not the cramped, box-like room in his own apartment. He swallows, hearing the rustle of sheets behind him accompanied by a soft sigh of slumber. His heart stops.

Memories of the previous night come rushing to him like a flash flood, his head throbbing at the sudden thought as he turns, ever so slightly, in the sheets and peeks over his shoulder. His insides lurch as his eyes, blinking to focus, fall on the pale back of small body, tucked into bed beside him; far away enough on the mattress that must be a king size to give both occupants space, but still close enough his heart jumps to his throat at the warmth radiating off him. Jisoo bites his lip, mouthing an inaudible, “Fuck.” and flinches when a rather loud, yet soft snore resounds from the man next to him.

Jisoo suddenly breaks out in a cold sweat, the previously felt bliss and calm from relaxing in such a comfortable bed forgotten as nervousness and nausea overtake his entire being. He kind of finds it hard to breathe. He calms his irrational mind, toppling with remarks of  _ what do I do now? What if he wakes up? Why is the bed so comfy? _

He knows, of course: He and Jihoon had sex last night (the thought seeming so ludicrous he has to repeat it to himself and bite back a massive grin), but the idea still withstands in Jisoo’s head that this is all just one big mistake. He doesn’t know where the comfort and reassurance from last night has gone, but his fingers are too timid to try and find it.

Slowly, carefully, in an attempt to not wake up his sleeping boss, Jisoo slips from the soft, satin sheets, drifting over his bare skin like a dream. An ache twangs around Jisoo’s body as he stands, his legs and hips aching more than normal after a long sleep, causing him to hang onto the bedside cabinet and then a rather suave looking, leather, backless couch to hobble about the room. It takes him a moment to realize the reason and feels his cheeks heat all the way to the tip of his ears. He can already hear Jeonghan echoing in his mind, saying, “You’re walking funny… Did he fuck you that hard?” 

Standing, Jisoo finally gets a good look around; if he thought the view lying down was good, the one he sees while standing is nothing short of stunning. The windows are floor to ceiling and wrap around two sides of the rectangular room, the walls being behind and to his right, both with doors leading out. For miles and miles, all that can be seen is a cluster of tall, towering buildings, almost as high as to reach the clouds. If the office building reaches a giant thirty-three floors, this building must be around forty. Staring out, Jisoo lets his mind wander for a few moments, deeming doing so safe from the way Jihoon’s breathing patterns show no change. He lets himself zone out and reach, reach far out into the distance, where the green rocky mountain tops stagger. He lets himself feel not like a mousey receptionist, but rather he lets himself feel like he’s free, like the city itself sits in the palm of his hands. He knows it’s silly, so shakes it from his head after moments of standing peacefully still, and instead looks around for his clothes.

The rest of the room sits very neatly and tidy and elegant. The bed is positioned in the middle of the wall facing the view, a television sitting in the way. To the right, by the window, sits a curved sofa, tucked in the corner with a tiny, round table and a door which Jisoo sees, after peeking into it, is the master bathroom. To the left of the bed, is another door, that leads down a short corridor to the third, the same plush carpet following out into a landing area.

After slipping his tan slacks on to the best of his ability with his stinging legs, Jisoo looks around for his shirt, finding it in two shreds by the bed. He bites his lip after muttering a quiet, “Oh.” and racks his brain for an alternative to the unwearable shirt.

Jisoo has and always will try to maintain a sense of chivalry about himself. It’s how his mother raised him (though it could be argued that over the course of his foolhardy college life he experienced some more curt adventures). He remembers, more specifically, the three most important rules in life according to her: number one, always remember your pleases and thank yous - that’s always been a given in life, every adult he’s ever known has always told him to act upon that rule, even if he was about to anyway. Number two, never take unless offered to - which, of course, he always remembered, mainly because taking something without having it offered is commonly known as stealing and the worst Jisoo’s ever stole was a pack of gum from corner shop when he was six because his bully of a cousin was holding his pet rabbit hostage. And number three, every human deserves basic respect - which, Jisoo can only dumb it down to simply don’t be a dick. In this case, Jisoo seems he’ll have to break rule number two because he’d rather die the most painful death rather than walk outside in the busy streets of Seoul with no, or little to no shirt on. So, he wanders through the door by the bed and finds a walk in dresser room on the right, snatching the first plain white shirt he can find and bolting.

He follows the vaguely familiar steps down - two flights of normal ones then a snazzy spiral staircase - until reaching the base floor of what he now knows to be a three-floor— a three  _ fucking _ floor penthouse in the most expensive district in the entire city. 

Jisoo tells himself,  _ find the door and go home, find the door and go home, find the door and… holy shit look at that view…  _ In the main room, Jisoo is opened to the entire view of the east side of Seoul, the side that was hidden behind walls upstairs. He tries not to let his breath be taken away, but stands, lifeless for a minute, taking in the beauty of the metropolis in its entirety. It’s hard not to envision himself as a bird being so high up, watching the busy city work so far below. It brings a feeling to Jisoo, like standing on the street and looking up is a totally different world, a bigger world, a world full of such extravagance Jisoo can only dream of entering it. He sighs, looking around Jihoon’s flashy, billion won apartment and knows he’s a fish out of water, a boy a long, long way from home.

Jisoo wants to stay and admire the beauty for as long as he possibly can, but suddenly, his phone vibrates in his grip, causing him to almost drop it and a shrill ring to sound out loudly. He clasps his hands over the speaker and quickly unlocks the device, holding it to his ear and whispering. “Hello?”

“Uhm, hi?” Jeonghan’s flippant voice echoes through the receiver. “Your concerned roommate-slash-best friend here calling to make sure you haven’t been murdered. Where the  _ hell _ have you been?”

Jisoo cups his hand around the bottom of the phone and replies, “I’m sorry!” in a hushed voice.

“Why are we whispering?”

“You don’t have to whisper,” Jisoo says, “I’m whispering so I don’t wake him up.” He looks around the apartment, worried that, somehow, his voice has traveled all the way up to the west bedroom and disturbed Jihoon.

“Who’s  _ he _ ?” Jeonghan asks before he gasps. “Josh, are you about to commit a splash and dash?”

“Excuse me.”

“You know, a tap that and tap out.”

“...”

“A cum and go.”

“Oh,” Jisoo says. “You could’ve just said that. Also, can you pick me up?” He looks out the window. “I’m not sure how to get home from here…”

“I really would buddy, but I have a lanky-legged boy in my bed right now  _ literally _ begging for me to suck his—”

Jisoo decides to hang up and take the subway in some unknown direction. It would be better than listening to the rest of that sentence, as well as anything that may follow.

 

*

 

The front door to his and Jeonghan’s apartment slams behind him loud, being used mainly as a way to warn the occupants (Jeonghan and his tall, on-again-off-again boyfriend Mingyu) they’re no longer alone. “I’m back,” he calls, just for extra measure.

“Hi, honey, how was work?” Jeonghan replies, standing over the stove in the kitchen with Mingyu wrapped around him, a sizzle from the pan as pancake batter spits at the pair. It’s a very sweet scene, like something stripped straight from a budding romcom, capturing the picturesque beauty of a perfect relationship. He looks up as Jisoo walks in. “Look at you, staying out all night with rich men.”

Jisoo smiles sheepishly and sets his things down on the island. He tries not to look at the couple in front of him for too long. However confusing their quick spurts of romance and their long-lasting rows may be, Jeonghan and Mingyu always seem to have this very well thought out way to them, a way that Jisoo can’t help but feel a stab of jealousy at. They are the definition of a rollercoaster relationship: one minute they’re up, high on each other’s love and wrapped up in their own little lovesick world. Then the next they’re down, fighting and spitting, at one another’s throats and letting the real stresses of real life get under their skin. Despite the number of times Jeonghan’s cried into Jisoo’s arms about a harshly worded brawl he and Mingyu had, their good times always seem  _ so good. _ To them, it doesn’t matter if that night Mingyu was called a brat, or Jeonghan was called a slut, the morning always brings something new to them, and, although happy for them, Jisoo sometimes yearns for what they have in such a selfish yet masochistic way.

He suddenly thinks of Jihoon— why, he’s not quite sure. “One rich man, thank you.” Jisoo finally replies to Jeonghan, adding, “Morning, Mingyu.”

“Morning, hyung.”

“Hey, that’s not your shirt.”

Jisoo looks down at the shirt he snagged from Jihoon’s closet, noticing how it hugs his chest tight, maybe a size smaller than his usual dress wear. “Oh, yeah, Jihoon, uhm…” He scratches the back of his head, “…kinda ripped mine in two. I had to take one quick.”

Giving a small gasp, Jeonghan tuts. “You?  _ Stealing?” _

“I’ll give it back to him!”

“It’s a nice shirt, I’d keep it.” Mingyu inputs and Jeonghan throws an eye roll over his shoulder, followed by a troubleshooting smile.

“So, go on then.” Jeonghan gives Jisoo a look, one he's all too familiar with: the cocked brow, hands open, spit it out kind of look and Jisoo just shrugs, reaching over into the fruit bowl for a handful of grapes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, popping a sweet, green one into his mouth.

Jeonghan groans and rolls his eyes, Mingyu kissing his shoulder that slips out from his shirt not working at all as a deterrent. “We’re not going through this again, Hong Jisoo, you’re telling me everything.”

“I know,” Jisoo replies, drumming his fingers into the marble surface, “just maybe…” (He eyes Mingyu.) “…later, you know?”

“I can leave, if you want,” the tall boy that Jisoo knows to have just barely turned nineteen, says. “If I’m an inconvenience.”

Jisoo wonders, however, why such a sweet, young boy gets his ass landed with Yoon Jeonghan, of all people. Jeonghan’s not a bad boyfriend per se - just in need of special maintenance. The latter’s said himself he knows only a  _ real _ man can handle him, so Jisoo is curious as to why a such a young guy like Kim Mingyu, who's most likely not had that much experience in the playing field after just barely passing freshman year of college, would catch someone like Yoon Jeonghan’s eye. He worries for the boy, really, knowing Jeonghan well - some would say too well - to know that, indeed, the man’s a hectic one to be around.

“Of course not!” Jisoo says, waving his hand dismissively. “Listen, I’ll go take a shower, and Jeonghan and I can talk later on.” He gives a warm smile and Jeonghan reflects that up to Mingyu, who leans down and kisses him sweetly on the lips.

Jisoo leaves before his eyes retain any more of their privacy.

 

*

 

That afternoon is full of rain. 

Summer showers are common in the city, and Jisoo thanks them - they serve as a cool down, a refresher, something that strips his mind back and lets him breathe away from the stuffy warmth the sun gives. He sits by the window that faces the alley, the bland wall of the shop next door a stark indifference to the view up in the penthouse. Jisoo doesn’t mean to let out a sigh, it just slips past his lips.

Jeonghan bids Mingyu goodbye with many kisses, the soft kind where Mingyu turns to leave, only to come rushing back and kiss Jeonghan once more. Jisoo smiles softly as the latter leans back against the wooden door after he finally shuts it, hushed whispers of  _ I love you, text me later, of course, gorgeous _ still swirling in his head. Jeonghan joins him in the main room sitting back on the couch with a blissful sigh and Jisoo can’t help but feel fondness bursting at the seams of his heart seeing his best friend so content.

He almost feels bad asking, “I thought you and Mingyu were in the middle of an argument?”

Jeonghan looks over at him, adjusting his glasses on his nose and replies, “We got over it.”

Holding the mug in his grip and cooling the steaming tea with his breath, Jisoo looks back out to the heavy rainfall. “Good.” He takes a sip. “I’m glad.”

“Yeah and what about you, hm?” Jeonghan sits up, cross-legged and pats the seat next to him.

Jisoo doesn’t fight the smile, but also doesn’t look back. “I still don’t know what you mean.” He only gives in and laughs when one of the soft throw pillows is sent hurling from Jeonghan’s hands to the back of his head and “Hey!” He throws it back. “Okay, okay, if you’re so interested in my sex life…” He moves and sits next to Jeonghan, settling back the couch. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything!” Jeonghan exclaims. “How good was the sex? Assuming he went the full mile.”

“Oh, he did.”

“On a scale of one to ten.”

“Hm… I’d say a solid eight-point-five.”

Jeonghan gawks at him. “Piss off.”

“Hey, you know me. You know what I like.”

Jeonghan pushes the glasses up his nose again as Jisoo takes another burning sip. “I see, I see. So… pretty vanilla?”

Jisoo jolts his eyebrows over the rim of the mug and Jeonghan chuckles. 

“I blame myself.”

“I blame you too.”

“So, the rest is history, right? You got his number, you guys are gonna date, you’ll become a rich house...husband and you can finally get me a decent birthday gift for once in our friendship; bada-bing-bada-boom, everyone’s happy?”

Jisoo snorts and swallows. “Your definition of decent constitutes how much the gift costs right?” Jeonghan nods. “Well, I thought the weed socks were pretty funky–”

“Please don’t say funky again.”

“–and for the record, no, the rest is not history.”

They both pause and are enveloped in silence. Jisoo stares into the mug, knowing the look on Jeonghan’s face will resemble that of a confused baby trying to speak. He finds comfort in the way the yet to be dissolved milk still floats around the surface, deforming as Jisoo blows softly over it.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not satisfied?”

Jisoo quirks his lip in a half-hearted half smile. “I don’t think I’ll get his number, nor will we date, I won’t be rich and you’ll be stuck with my hilariously timed novelty gifts until the day we’re eighty.” There was a sullen stillness to the room and Jisoo knows he’s either confused Jeonghan or disappointed him. Jisoo suddenly feels rather depressed over his rather pathetic life, lusting and loving after a man rather superior to him.

“I’m guessing the… conversation didn’t go well.”

Jisoo needs to start cutting Jeonghan some slack— he’s brash, sure; annoying, sometimes; morally askew and quite unintentionally narcissistic, on the occasion. But he has a heart, a big one, no matter how deep it is, it’s there. And Jisoo can feel it, the way he feels Jeonghan’s hand on his shoulder, rubbing soothingly even without him knowing himself he needed comfort.

“Well…” Jisoo doesn’t really know what to say.

Thinking back, he got what he wanted. Jihoon said, rather explicitly, _ there’s something about you. Something I want.  _ It could easily have been confused with wanting him sexually, but just before, he said the opposite,  _ I’m not trying to seduce you because I think you’d be a pretty thing to fuck. _ Maybe he’s interpreting it wrong, but would that amount to him implying he likes Jisoo too? Or, at least, if not fuck, somewhere along the lines of making love? (Then again, two parties must actually be in love in order to make love, and Jisoo doesn’t want to jump into that puddle yet). 

Does Jisoo want that, by God, does Jisoo want Lee Jihoon to like him too. He figures they could be pretty good together - course of discussion unveils they’re similar on the interests scale: they listen to the same kind of music, read the same kind of books; they even hold similar political views (however, they only touched upon that topic briefly, Cosmo says the worst thing for a budding romance is to talk about politics on the first date). Jisoo thinks maybe, in some alternate paradise, they could both indulge in that mutual attraction and indeed start something new and wonderful… But what withstands is that in this universe, they just don’t belong. And he knows it.

He scratches his head again and sighs. “No… I mean, the conversation was great. It’s just…” He finds refuge in the tea, rather than his best friend’s face.

“Spit it out, babe. What did he say?”

Jisoo inhales. “He, like… called me wonderful… and then later said there was something about me that he liked. And something he wants.”

“So… what’s the issue here?”

“It’s not simple, Han.”

“Or, you’re making it not simple?”

Jisoo finally looks at him, brow furrowed.

With a smile, his best friend continues. “Stop me, if I’m wrong, but I get the feeling you’re not for this all the way because he intimidates you.”

Jisoo stays quiet and lets him go on.

“I think…” Jeonghan moves the hair from his eyes. “... you’re under some impression that you and your boss would never work because of where you come from, Josh.”

Jisoo hates it, but Jeonghan’s just hit the nail right on the top of the head.

“It’s just… like you said, Jeonghan. How, out of everyone in that company, was it me that caught his eye?”

“That was different, Jisoo. Back then I thought it wouldn’t be anything more than a quickie in his office then you’d both move on. But this is different, this is serious.” Jeonghan sits properly, and indicator this truly is serious. “I can guarantee, one hundred percent, that this guy is into you.”

“How do you know, though?” Jisoo sets his mug on the coffee table and sinks into his warm, gray sweater. “He could, just, I don’t know, be bluffing? Or, like, we could be interpreting this totally wrong.”

“I know that.” Jeonghan holds up his hands. “Hey, I could be wrong. We could be wrong. But I know for the fact that if you discern these feelings - whatever feelings they may be - over the fact that he’s a rich CEO and you’re a poor, wannabe writer, then you’re an absolute nutter.” He’s not finished. “Because what are we, Jisoo?”

“Struggling financially from crippling college debt?”

“No.”

“Promiscuous, untamed men.”

“Try again.”

“… Uh–”

“We’re  _ human. _ And as humans, we have to take leaps of faith, you know why?”

“I’m sure you’re going to interrupt me to tell–”

“Because we deserve to live excitingly.” Jeonghan takes Jisoo's hand. “Listen, okay. Think about what he said. Think about how, when, where, why, he said what he said.” Jisoo opens up his mouth but Jeonghan holds up a hand. “I don’t wanna know. You need to figure it out. Whatever conclusion you come to is up to you. But don’t think that you, sitting here in an apartment building on the block where ninety percent of the city’s drug deals happen–” (Jisoo cracks a smile.) “–and the rent is just what we can manage is reason enough for you to turn down a man who you’ve been head over heels for since you met him.” Jeonghan stands as Jisoo stays sitting, the words burning into his mind the way the tea burnt over his tongue, sinking in and leaving their scars. “You’re more than the fake Gucci sunglasses you have in your closet, and he’s more than the real ones he probably has.” Jeonghan smiles and Jisoo feels it warmly even though he doesn’t make eye contact. He pinches Jisoo’s chin fondly. “If there’s anyone I know in this city that can get a man, it’s you.”

Jisoo reluctantly lets a grin spreading across his rosy cheeks. “I don’t deserve you.”

Jeonghan sighs. "You're right, you don’t." There's the Yoon Jeonghan he's used to. “Now, let’s order some pizza.”

“Didn’t you just say we can barely afford rent?”

As Jeonghan hurries off to fetch the phone without waiting for an answer, Jisoo looks out the window and sees the skies are finally clear. His mind, however, is another story.

  
  



	5. V

Jisoo doesn’t know why that the minute he sees Jihoon, every inch of impromptu self-confidence melts away into a messed up puddle of lust and yearning. It probably has something to do with the fact that, in every aspect of his being, Jihoon is perfect, but he really can’t bring that thought to his mind in the meters (that feel more like miles) leading towards his desk, where Jihoon stands, consulting a paper with Seokmin. He wonders how everything looks from his eyes, dressed in a million-dollar suit, checking the time on a million-dollar watch as he drives a million-dollar car, but thinks particularly on how he must look through Lee Jihoon’s eyes, about how small and inferior he must be to him.

He gulps down his conscience as he nears his boss, the most proper looking bag he could find carrying Jihoon’s shirt in one hand and coffee holder with two, steaming hot cups in the other. He thinks about Jeonghan and his somewhat encouraging pep talk by the door that morning. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Ask him how he feels.”

“And what are you going to say if he says he likes you?”

(It felt more like an army drill rather than some friendly moral raising.)

“Tell him that I’m not looking for a relationship right now and his interests surely would be much better suited to someone more like to him.” Which was the best answer Jisoo could come up with over the days of thinking.

Jeonghan sighed. “Not the answer I was hoping for, but it’s an answer nonetheless. Are you sure, babe? Is that really what you want to do?”

Jisoo swallowed. No. No, it is not. But it’s what he should do. He nodded.

He regrets nodding. He wishes he’d gotten Jeonghan to land a palm across his cheek and tell him off for being like this– God knows that and a strong coffee is what he needs. But still, he knows it’s what he should do. He walked off the train, the few blocks from the station, and through the office doors with such zest in his step; he was so ready to sort himself out finally, gain some answers, put it behind him, but now, as he watches the way Jihoon stands with his strong stance, his thinking face that spreads across his handsome fucking face, and the cold, stoic exterior shining like new penny (that, regretfully, sends tingles down Jisoo’s spine), he feels nothing more than that weak, sensitive, helpless child he knows himself to be.

The breath physically leaves him as Jihoon looks up, his furrowed brow and pursed lips merging into a face of glee, lighting up like motion sensor as Jisoo approaches. Jisoo feels like someone’s taken a boot and forced it straight into his gut. How in God’s name is he going to do this?

“Jisoo,” Jihoon addresses him, smiling. “Good morning.”

Jisoo nods his head, pulling the strongest smile he could as Jihoon says something to Seokmin, who promptly leaves with a warm look to Jisoo. He still gets shivers though as Jihoon leans forward and gently touches his elbow. “Hi.”

Breathily, Jisoo replies, “Hi.”

Jihoon eyes the bag, and gives a mischievous smile, one that twists and turns in Jisoo’s tummy. “Is that my shirt?”

Jisoo flushes. “Oh, uh… yeah, I’m sorry I took it, mine was, uhm, unwearable.” He blinks a few times, as if his eyes stung from staring at Jihoon’s beauty for too long. “I washed it, don’t worry.” He extends his arm, offering the bag.

“You can keep it, if you like.” Jihoon’s eyes fall over him like the way water falls from a cliff - gracefully at first, until it makes contact with the rocks and causes all levels of commotion below. Jisoo’s skin feels like water’s pelting on him as Jihoon takes in his whole body. He hesitates, opens his mouth, before he closes it and almost shakes some kind of thought from his head. “Though, maybe it’s too small for you.”

Jisoo smiles. “Just a bit.” He again offers the bag, Jihoon’s hand brushing against his as he takes it.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Oh, and…” He puts forward the coffee holder too. “The one on the left is yours.”

Jihoon takes that also. “You sure this time?”

Jisoo almost keens. “Positive. Don’t hold it to me.”

Jihoon chuckles. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

There’s a calm, yet stifling silence. Jihoon almost budges, swaying slightly on his toes before he rounds back and parts his pink lips. Just as some words leave his mouth, Jisoo stupidly speaks.

“We should–”

“Can we–”

They both stop, share a glance, before sharing a ripple a laughter.

“You first,” Jihoon says, taking a sip of his coffee. Jisoo’s kind of thankful that he offered.

“Can we talk?” he asks and Jihoon nods.

“We are.”

Jisoo cracks a smile, almost giving a half-subdued, half-helpless sigh. “You know what I meant.”

Jihoon reflects it. Why is he so cute yet sexy, this doesn’t make sense. “In my office?”

“Please.”

Inside, Jihoon leans against the front of his desk, like he usually does, and Jisoo stands with his hands folded over his lap. “It’s about Friday night.”

“Why is the topic of conversation here usually about sex?”

Jisoo chuckles, trying not to replay the evening in his mind, but ultimately fails, a blush dusting his cheeks. “I don’t know…” He looks up and takes Jihoon in, his hands slipping into the back pockets of his black pants (a habit he does as he thinks) and sighs, before the topic can slip further from his brain the more he looks into Jihoon’s homely eyes. “I wanted to say I’m sorry, I guess.”

“If I remember correctly, the roles were reversed last time.”

_ Stop making me laugh, please, I’m trying to not fall further in love with you.  _ “This time it is my fault, though.”

“I feel as if no one should be blamed for it.” Jihoon looks nervous and Jisoo again feels the ache. “I-I thought it was a… consensual, mutual thing.”

“Oh, shit, no that’s not what I mean,” Jisoo panics. “I-It was totally consensual, mutual, yes, of course!” He takes a deep breath in, holds it, then lets it go slowly, desperate attempts to collect his thoughts. “I just… I don’t know… what’s really happening here…” He uses his hands to motion between the both of them. “…Between us, I mean,”  It sounds so wrong to refer to them as ‘us’, but at the same time, it somehow feels so right. He swallows, finding the thickness swell in his throat, scratching the sides painfully. “But I think it should stop.”

Not really the way he was supposed to go about it, but he went that way anyway.

Jihoon takes a deep breath in, Jisoo thinking he’s about to shout or get angry, but he instead just lets it out slowly, saying, “Oh.”

_ Oh?  _ Jisoo thinks.  _ That’s it? _ Oh?

“Yeah…” Jisoo scrunches his hands up against his own butt and nods, rolling his lips together. “I’m just… not…”  _ Ready for a relationship? Ready for anything? Sure this is appropriate?  _ Jisoo knows exactly what he needs to say, but they’re all lies. He is ready for Jihoon. If Jihoon wants him, he’s his without a shadow of a doubt. If not, Jisoo wouldn’t have take a cold shower this morning to wake himself up from the useless, continued daydream of the two of them being in love. The lame excuses can’t seem to fight their way through Jisoo’s throat, so he leaves it open, whimsically hoping Jihoon can somehow read his mind or figure it out on his own - he’s surely smart enough to do that, right?

Jihoon sets the coffee down, that stretch of sunshine that lit up his face earlier having filtered away as he rubs a hand over his chin. “It’s okay.” He says, nodding. “I understand.” He sounds very strong and formal, that little spark of humanity he shows to Jisoo having fizzled out too. “I’m sorry for pursuing you so relentlessly.”

Jisoo’s heart cracks.

“No, don’t be.” Jisoo tries to smile, clearing his throat to slice down the emotion welling in his chest.  _ Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. _ “It took me some time to figure it out myself, so…” All night, in fact. Of the whole weekend. For the past two weeks. And, no, he still hasn’t figured it out.  _ Fuck, I’m about to cry, aren’t I? _

Jihoon offers nothing more than a nod, looking at his feet as he says, “Well, uh… Thank you for clearing that up.” He clears his throat too, the tiny crack in his words going over Jisoo’s head. “I’m sure we both have work to do, so…”

Jisoo confirms, muttering a meek, “Yes, sir.” and quickly excuses himself. 

“Wait, Jisoo.”

Jisoo turns on his heels more frantic than he hoped to.

“This… doesn’t have to make things awkward between us. I mean, we’re still going to be working together, we should keep on, you know,” Jihoon clears his throat, “maintaining a healthy work relationship.” 

Jisoo inhales. “Of course, sir.”

“Jihoon.”

“… Jihoon.” He offers one last smile before finally escaping the swamp-like tension in the office, walking straight past his desk to the elevator at the opposite end of the hallway. Fire rips through his chest as he walks - paces - that makes his chest rise and fall erratically. It stings, a pain that’s not the good kind and closes in, making it feel like his heart is actively shriveling up and disintegrating in his chest. He finds his way to the bathroom, sleek, black tiles reflecting his heartache back to him. He closes himself in a stall, hands starting to tremble as he reaches into his pocket for his phone, only able to dial half of Jeonghan’s number before he totally bursts into tears.

 

*

 

The door closes as Jisoo scurries out, like a timid mouse escaping an exterminator, and Jihoon’s heart sends a deafening pang as the handle clicks up. He collapses his head in his heads and sighs, the pain striking through his chest almost unbearable.

“Good job, Jihoon,” he says to himself, comically smacking his knee like some outdated slapstick comedy gag. “You fucked that one up alright.”

Saying it aloud serves only as more of a solid punch square in his chest. He slumps back into his chair, pouting like a grumpy teenager and kicks his feet up on the desk with a huff. “‘Just go for it,’ he said. Jisoo will surely fall for you.’” Jihoon groans, recounting the conversation he had over and over in his head. “Why am I  _ such an asshat?” _

Jihoon in himself is a rather peculiar guy, some would say. Those some would have to be some of the very few people Jihoon is close to, however, since those are the only people he who would really know him anyway. He’s like that, really: he doesn’t open to many, and finds comfort in trusting a few. He doesn’t take a leap for new acquaintances, nor does his vive for new relationships. He’s sound and happy being known as a mysterious, secret man with lots of money and little friends. He finds that the best way to avoid a) being screwed over and b) being hurt.

Normally, a new employee to him is nothing important, just another fresh face, some fresh skill, and a fresh person that will most likely slave away under his command for the next twenty years of their lives in order to earn a fat paycheck. But Jisoo… was something. Jihoon, honestly, finds it angers him how he doesn’t know what it is about his twenty-two-year-old receptionist that entices him so much, all he knows is that he does. And Jihoon hates being in the dark.

Almost as if it were on cue, Jihoon’s personal line, the black phone situated on his desk in between the phone for business inquiries and the framed photo of his little brother, rings. He knows exactly who’s calling.

He yanks the phone up, feet falling off the glass and pulls the receiver to his ear. “Thanks, dick, your advice really worked.”

“Good morning, Captain Smiles. How are you today?”

“I’m doing fabulous, Seungcheol, how are you all the way over in the Maldives?” Jihoon basically spits his reply.

“I have a sneaky feeling you don’t care.”

“I do.” Jihoon lets out a sigh, the sudden burst of agitation simmering through his veins. Seungcheol has always told him he has an anger issue but Jihoon chooses to stay blind to it.  “I do, I’m just… not in a friendly mood right now.”

“You haven’t been in one since high school.”

“Ha.”

“They didn’t call you Grouchy Grandpa because you were fun now, did they?”

“I really hope you choke on that umbrella in your drink.”

Choi Seungcheol is one of those few that Lee Jihoon knows he can trust. He’s been his best friend since he learned how to walk, and the former never lets him forget it. “I know exactly what you should do, Jihoon,” Seungcheol had said when Jihoon collapsed on the sofa of his apartment in the Downtown of the city. That day, Jihoon had a few interviews lined up for his new secretary after the old one had suddenly quit and left for the states (Jihoon didn’t mind - she was very, very heterosexual and always seemed to think that the amount of cleavage she showed had the power to switch her boss’ sexuality). He had five to see, but canceled on four of them after a very pretty, sweet smelling, cat eyed boy sat across from him and who took his breath right out of his chest.

“What should I do, Seungcheol?” he asked, taking the drink he was offered.

“You like him, right?”

“Well, I don’t know, do I? I just met him.” He sipped the bitter gin and tonic.

“You seemed to like him enough to give him the job right off the bat.” Seungcheol follows his action and sips his drink. “That’s gotta mean something.”

It did, it meant a lot of things for Jihoon. One thing that should be known about the CEO of Lee Enterprises is that he isn’t weak. Sure, he’s the height of your average fourteen-year-old, but he’s prided himself on working out three times a week since he was twenty and he knows his body is as solid as a rock. However, this is a situation that proves he can be weak in a way he thought he never could. He could feel his knees, his heart, his head all falter the minute Hong Jisoo walked into his life with his lean, tan body, cute face that could light up the skies and the ambition Jihoon had once seen in himself. It did things to him, made his heart race so quick he felt he would die, he fell head over heels the first time Jisoo opened his mouth. He wanted that, he’d say he  _ needed _ that. Jisoo embodied this idea of perfection that Jihoon felt would race out of his reach unless he acted quick.

But he’d screwed all that up now.

“Hey, how do you know I had an umbrella in my drink.” Seungcheol gasps, which brings Jihoon down from his purging high of annoyance and strife. “Are you watching me via drone from above?”

“Seungcheol, you are the cringiest person I know, of course you would get an umbrella in your drink.” He sighs. “Anyway, why are you calling, it’s like…” He looks at his watch and fixes some quick mental maths, “... five in the morning?”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol chuckles, “Minghao woke me up earlier, I haven’t been able to go back to sleep.”

“How is the little one?” Jihoon asks, smiling just at the thought of his Godson climbing over his best friend in the early hours of the Maldivian summer. “I can’t believe he’ll be three in November.”

“Hm-hm… Feels just like yesterday…” Seungcheol almost drifts off on a tangent, before snapping back. “Hey, don’t distract! How’d it go?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Seungcheol laughs. “You haven’t been able to shut up about him since you hired him, I’m guessing the sudden silence means it didn’t go well?”

“Seungcheol, please find out a way to learn how to shush sometimes.” Jihoon taps the keys on his keyboard a few times, trying to sound like he’s in the middle of working. “You’re not helping ease the pain of my broken heart.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I told you, Cheol. I  _ told _ you the unconventional approach was not going to work. Just go for it; seduce him, you said. I swear, I’ve scared him away! I won’t be surprised if he resigned by next month!”

“Then again, you didn’t really take the slow seducing approach like I said, did you. You had him gagging on your cock two weeks into your plan.”

“He’s hot, okay!” Jihoon thinks times like these are when he should be really thankful for sound trapping walls. “I couldn’t resist!”

“And you say you’re not a sex crazy dog?”

“I’m not gonna argue with you, but I hadn’t had sex in months, thank you very much.”

“Anyway, what did he say?”

Jihoon sighs for the umpteenth time, running his hand over his chest where he swears he could still feel the burn of a heartbreak. Jihoon’s at that point of crushing on someone where he kind of wants to pack his entire business up, move it to the Outback and watch it slowly crumble until it’s decrepit and sad like his soul over the worst case of rejection embarrassment he’s ever gotten. He’s always been bad with handling rejection - as a big, fancy CEO, you’d think he’d have some stride in him, the  _ I can get anyone so why would I cry over you feeling _ , but no, he’s the exact opposite. Even with billions of dollars to his name, Jihoon’s really just your average, anti-social, boring guy who happens to have a helicopter to take him to Jeju when he wants it to. He’s just as fragile and needy as the rest.

Jisoo though… He was a special type of rejection. He was the rejection you face from someone that you’d rather bury yourself alive for twenty years than see their pretty fucking face offer you rejection. The girl who rejected Jihoon for homecoming in Sophomore year? Had nothing on Jisoo. Jihoon’s not used to giving his heart away, so having it turned down really punctured a few holes in his gumption.

“Just that he thinks what was happening ‘between us,’ should stop.”

“And what was happening between you?”

Good question.

“Uhm… nothing really? Like, I took him to dinner on Friday, we had sex and … that’s it…” It honestly does sound like a whole lot of nothing.

“... Did you ever really get to tell him you like him?”

“Well…” Jihoon flips his legs back up on the desk and loosens his tie, “kinda?”

“Did you say the words ‘I like you, Hong Jisoo.’?”

“Not explicitly.”

“Minghao?” Seungcheol calls. “Come and tell your uncle Jihoon he’s a moron.” A few seconds later, a childish voice echoes around the receiver:

“Uwcle Jihoon’s mowon!”

“Well, I didn’t have time!”

“You had ample amounts of time.”

“I’m gonna hang up on you.”

“Jihoon, you have to let him know how you feel! Where is he now?”

“Working, probably.”

“Are you sure he isn’t crying in the bathrooms?”

“He’s twenty-two, Seungcheol, not twelve.”

 

“It hurt a lot more than I thought it would.”

Jeonghan hears Jisoo’s sniffles from the other end of the phone and coos. “Oh, babe, I’m sorry. But, hey, at least it’s cleared up, right? You can finally take that chick from the rental store’s phone number since she’s been offering since senior year!”

Jisoo wipes the tear stains from his red cheeks, holding the phone between his chin and shoulder as he washes his hands in the sink. “That doesn’t really help, Jeonghan.” He can see himself in the reflection of the mirror, eyes already puffy and the tip of his nose turning red. He really looks like the mess he is inside.

“Silver linings?”

Jisoo sighs and yanks some paper towels out of the dispenser, drying his fingers before crumpling them up and tossing them into the bin. “I’ll get over it, I guess.” He leans with his back against the long line of sinks, staring at the spotless tiles of the bathroom floor. “I suppose I’ll have to.”

“Is that going to be after a few nights of crying in my arms?”

“Laws of best friend-ism,” Jisoo quips, “my shoulder to cry on and all.”

“I can totally hook you up with one of Mingyu’s friends if you want,” Jeonghan suggests, the voice of his boss shouting at him in the background going ignored. “He knows this guy, Wonwoo I think his name is, who works at the library. He’s about to take the Bar Exam, so if rich men are your taste–”

“Thank you, Jeonghan.” Jisoo reluctantly smiles and shakes his head. “I’m just really not interested in anyone right now.”

“Okay, as long as you’re sure?”

Jisoo hears another yell of, “Jeonghan!” and the exasperated reply of, “What?” before he finally starts to say goodbye.

“It sounds like you need to get back to work.”

“It sounds like my boss can suck my dick.”

“Was that meant to be jab?” Someone enters the bathroom and Jisoo stops himself mid-chuckle. “Listen, I’ll meet you for lunch, okay?”

“I worry about you, Jisoo.”

Smiling fondly, Jisoo fiddles with his fingernail, answering with another sniff. “You shouldn’t too much. Watch, I’ll be over him in a week.”

 

*

 

Jisoo knew then that was a lie and he certainly knows that now. He’s still hung up on Jihoon and hasn’t really made any attempts to expel himself from the hamster wheel of self-loathing he runs on. He finds it much easier to just distract himself, usually by taking on more work he should be able to handle or by filling every lonely second with something so he’s never alone with his thoughts for long enough to dwell on them.

During Jeonghan’s absence on Monday evening and during the making of a house of cards he was actually incredibly proud of, Jisoo’s phone vibrates on the desk.

“Hey, big brother!”

Jisoo grins and leans back into the chair, fondness flooding his body and feeling reassurance at the sound of a familiar voice. “Hi, Hansol!” he greets. “How’s my favorite baby brother today? You haven’t called me in ages.”

“Favourite? I’m your only brother,  _ hyung, _ ” Hansol replies, flippant emphasis on hyung. “And I called you like two weeks ago?”

“That’s too long, remember when I left for Korea and you promised you’d call every night?”

“I was in middle school!” he protests and Jisoo chuckles.

“Anyway, how are things? How’s Harvard? Are you settled in?”

“Uhm, yeah, it’s great! Cool place, cool people… going well…”

“Yeah,” Jisoo laughs, looking over to the framed photo by his bedside of himself, Hansol and their childhood dog, “you sound convincing.” He spins in his chair, watching at the patchy cream paint on his ceiling rotate with him. “Man, was mom proud when you got accepted in there. Her favorite son going all the way to Harvard University of Law…”

“Hey, she was proud of you too,” Hansol says, “I mean, if she remembers, that is.”  

A bittersweet silence disconnects the brothers as the words slowly bring about comprehension. Hansol fills it in, albeit not with anything brighter.

“I don’t know if she remembers much of anything, really.”

Jisoo hates how sad his brother sounds, but he knows he can’t really blame him. Diseases are a bitch - they rip people, families, lives apart with little to no mercy. They’re the biological entity of an assassin, ruthless and cold, who strikes in the dead of night.

“Well…” Jisoo takes a deep breath in, assuming his position of big brother, a beacon of reassurance and hope, “… That’s Alzheimer’s ‘Sol. We can’t help it and neither can she. We just have to live with it.”

“I wish we didn’t…” Hansol sighs. “I wish she didn’t.”

“I know,” Jisoo says, because he does. For years, he sat at his mother’s bedside, sometimes praying, sometimes crying, sometimes just hoping there was something he could do to fix the mess that they’d all had been put in, the mess that they were all still in. The small head and the small heart of his seventeen-year-old self were bursting with mourning as he looked the doctors straight in the eye and asked, “What can be done?” The sullen reply of, “Nothing. It’s a waiting game.” still stings - the kind that you feel thunder across your temples and rakes down you cranium, scratching at your neck and crippling your entire body. As a kid like that, no matter how big and infinite you feel, you’re still just as helpless as the rest. He lets out a breath and rubs his eye. “I know.”

“But hey, moving on…” Hansol clears his throat and Jisoo cracks a smile as he watches the rain pour down his window. “How’s the big corporate job going?”

Jisoo doesn’t know if he’ll prefer the former or the coming topic. He scratches his neck, humming. “Good, pretty good. I like it there, it’s… fun.”

“Found anyone cute?”

“Uhm…” Jisoo laughs nervously, “uh, a few guys yeah…” Jisoo hesitates in letting his whole ordeal out to his baby brother. In theory, that’s one of the reasons why siblings are there: to rely on, while the other reason is mainly to bully them. And Jisoo knows Hansol has filled in both roles over their eighteen years spent together. But to pile this whole, rather adult yet somehow childish ordeal on him? When he’s just about to start college? That’s something. “Actually, dude, I could use your advice on something.”

“Love Doctor Hansol is here. What do you need?”

“I’m asking for a friend, but–”

“HA!”

“Shut up. There’s this guy, and he’s super cool, really handsome, insanely rich… a-and this friend is really quite the opposite. And, due to some spectacular constellation, it turns out this super cool, really handsome and insanely rich guy may like m...my friend and my friend doesn’t really know what to do…”

“And why does said friend not know what to do?”

“Because, like…” Jisoo folds his arms and wets his lips, “... They just don’t match. I mean, there’s similar taste in almost everything but they just are from different ends of the spectrum and like… the super cool, really handsome and insanely rich guy should really be interested in other people… people more like him.” He clears his throat. “And, uh, this friend really doesn’t think a relationship is a good idea at the moment… so, yeah. What’s the verdict, Love Doctor Hansol?”

“Do you like him?”

Jisoo looks from the dyed wood of his desk to the lights scattering the dark sidewalk outside. Like is only where he’d begin when thinking about Jihoon. It’s at the point where he’s just head over heels, smitten, totally in love with the man and everything he represents. He opens his mouth but finds he closes it, his answer coming to him during waves of confusion and pondering. He finally answers, biting his lip, “Yeah…” then stops, shock coating his features. “Wait, no! It’s not me!”

“You’re a terrible, liar, Josh.”

Jisoo deflates in his chair, totally giving up. “‘Sol!” he whines. “What do I do?”

“Remember that one time, when I was in like, eighth grade, and that really rich girl who lived in Beverly Hills asked me to Homecoming?”

Jisoo quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

“You know what my best friend said?”

“What?”

“‘She’s way out of your league, Vernon. Aim lower.’”

Jisoo vaguely remembers this happening, but keeps quiet and lets Hansol continue.

“And you know what I did?”

“What did you do?”

“I went anyway, saying, ‘If she likes me for who I am, then I don’t give a shit.’ And I had the best night of my entire high school life. And I think you should take that away: things like social status, skin color, background, future, wealth… they don’t matter. If you like, God forbid  _ love, _ someone, even a tiny bit, then you need to go for it.

“I don’t know who this guy is, Josh, but I know that the dreamy sound in your voice means something and that something probably is something big and emotional. Go for it, Josh, okay? You probably need a man in your life.”

Jisoo snorts, feeling his throat tighten and his chest well. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I want someone to take care of you. You’ve spent too long taking care of others.”

Jisoo smiles and nods, even if Hansol couldn’t see it. “Thank you, Hansol.”

“So if you haven’t asked him out by the end of the week, I’m flying over there and giving you a smack.”

 


	6. VI

“Jisoo?”

At the call of his name, Jisoo flinches and snaps his head up. He tugs the buds from his ears and lets out a breath, smiling at the lady who grins ferociously at him. “Eunji,” he greets, “Sorry. You scared me there.”

“The kind of earphone plugging Friday, huh?” She stands a few inches smaller than him, a few inches smaller than Jihoon, even, and smiles up at him cutely.

Jisoo breathes an airy chuckle. “You could say that.” An entire day– no, an entire  _ week _ of scukling around trying to avoid one man to the best of his professional ability is more than enough to wear him out. No, to answer the question. He hasn’t gotten around to approaching Jihoon. In fact, every time he’s been close, he’s given up, chickened out, scurried away like a bug in the daylight. Hansol’s texted him every morning since Monday:

 

[170817]

**baby brother:** have you done it yet?

**you:** no

[170818]

**baby brother:** have you done it yet?

**you:** still no

[170819]

**baby brother:** have you done it yet?

**you:** don’t you, like, have a life to attend to?

[170820]

**baby brother:** question

**you:** yeah?

**baby brother:** have you done it yet?

_ you have blocked baby brother (@hansol_choi) _

[170821]

**unknown id:** have you done it yet?

 

He’s fully aware that he needs to do it, it’s just a case of not getting choked up, or overly emotional, or having some sort of crisis every time he tries to talk about his feelings. He wants Jihoon, in some weird, nonsensical way that kind of twists his stomach and hurts his head, like it’s a dream somehow disguised as a daunting nightmare. He’s sure he’d be better off getting treatment for this kind of fatal attraction, rather than seeking out the truth on his own.

“Glad it’s over?”

“Thrilled. Anyway…” He pulls his satchel onto the chair and feeds his files and papers into it, “what can I do for you? Do you need to talk to Mr. Lee.”

Eunji - the assistant CTO of the business - shakes her head. “No, don’t worry.” She smiles like he physically couldn’t stop even if she tried. “I came to talk to you, actually.”

Jisoo stops buttoning up his bag and opens his mouth. “Oh,” he replies, a hand instinctively coming up to scratch his ear. Giving an awkward chuckle, he smiles. “What for?”

Jisoo and Eunji are at that stage where they’re just breaching acquaintance status. She’s been an awful good help since Jisoo joined the company: when Jisoo spilt coffee all over his laptop, Soonyoung was there to retrieve the hard drive and salvage him from having a breakdown; when Jisoo had accidentally,  _ accidentally, _ rerouted all of Jihoon’s business emails to an unknown server held somewhere in Texas, Eunji was there to bring them back, and cover up any evidence it was him. The two weren’t exactly friends but were comfortable enough around one another to exchange odd looks during an imperative business meeting, so maybe in due course, they really could be. It was nice, yet bittersweet to think about someone other than Jihoon for a change.

“Well, Seokmin, some other team leaders, and I we’re planning on getting drinks, but plans fell through.” (As Eunji talks– in her thick dialect even stronger than Jihoon’s– Jisoo hears the faint click of the office door behind him and notices Jihoon brush past, empty water bottle in hand.) “I was wondering if you’d like to join me instead? I realize we haven’t had much of a chance…” (Jihoon’s filling his bottle up at the water cooler and, although quite a distance away, Jisoo can feel his eyes on Soonyoung and him. It makes it hard for him to focus.) “... What do you say?”

Jisoo looks back to Eunji suddenly. “What? Oh, right, drinks?” 

Eunji nods. 

“Tonight? I don’t think I can sorry.” (He does know he can, and he should. Going out would be good for him. Who knows, he could meet a handsome stranger that would sweep him away on a silver steed and rescue him the deep dark abyss that is his mind. Unlikely, however, he just really doesn’t want to socialize at this time.) “Friend’s birthday, sorry.”

“Ah,” Eunji says, nodding understandingly. “That’s cool. Another time?” (Jihoon makes his way back, striding with one hand in his pocket, hips giving a subtle sway. Jisoo has to tear his eyes away.)

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Jisoo nods his head and smiles at Eunji, reaching down to grab his satchel and swing it over his shoulder.

“Are you heading out now?”

Jisoo nods.

“Don’t you want to, like, tell Mr. Lee? You’re his assistant, after all.”

Usually, Jisoo would pop his head round the door and smile at the way Jihoon sits so professional and alluring at his desk. If he were on the phone, he’d wave his hand and nod his head in the direction of the elevator, signaling his departure, but if Jihoon had an ear free, Jisoo would say, “I’m heading home now, sir. Is there anything you need me to do before I go?”

And Jihoon would reply. “No, thank you, Jisoo. Have a nice night.”

“You too, sir.”

Jisoo looks back at the office door, slightly ajar and swallows. He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“Alright,” Eunji says, still somehow smiling (Jisoo questions how her cheeks don’t always hurt, but finds it refreshing nonetheless.) “Walk you to the elevator?”

“Sure.” Jisoo collects his coat and folds it over his arm, following Eunji to the end of the corridor where they stand in comfortable quiet on the inside of the mirror lined lift. Eunji’s rattling through her backpack, grunting. “Hold on, I left my house keys in my office.” She looks up at Jisoo, reaching a hand out to stop the doors sliding closed. “You go on down. I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”

Jisoo barely gets to reply before she dashes from the elevator, leaving him alone with the comical music playing quietly from the speaker in the corner. Jisoo shifts his weight, hands folding comfortably over his lap as he waits, the two metallic doors finally coming to shut before someone else shoves their hand, arm, a sliver of a shoulder in the gap. Jisoo instinctively shuffles to the side, allowing comfortable space for two until he looks up and tries to keep his knees from wobbling. _ Oh, no. Not 2+ minutes alone in the elevator with him, _ he begs some God. With forced dialogue and awkward eye contact.  _ This really is not what I need right now. _

Jihoon flashes him a small smile, straightening his tie and standing with Jisoo, side by side.

Jisoo holds his breath, like Jihoon could sense his erratic breathing patterns, and looks around anywhere apart from his left, knowing that if he were to meet with Jihoon’s side profile, all hell would break loose in his head. Healthy work relationship his ass.

They ride in silence for a good twenty floors before Jihoon speaks up.

“Hey, Jisoo…” he begins, Jisoo snapping his head around a little too violently. “I know… things have been awkward for a while between us.” Like that wasn’t stating the obvious. “But I really don’t want it to be that way.” He speaks softly, much different than Jisoo’s ever really heard him speak before. It sends chills racing down his spine. He’s still so wrapped up and he knows he is. “I’m sorry if my… pursuit of you made you uncomfortable. I really am. I don’t want you to feel you have to tiptoe around me. Like, I’m your boss, we should be friends, if anything.” 

Jisoo watches him, heart hammering in his throat which he tries to viciously swallow down. It feels like he’s reiterating a point, which he kind of is, and Jisoo feels like the kid in the class who never seems to understand anything.

Looking at Jisoo briefly, Jihoon continues. “But there really is something I have to say.”

Jisoo isn’t sure he remembers how to breathe properly. After a small pause, he asks. “What?”

Jihoon closes his eyes, holds a hand on his chest and takes a deep, nervous breath. Jisoo feels his heart must be beating as wildly as his own. “I–” He stops and looks at the lights flashing at the top of the doors. Floor 15… 14… 13… He just sighs and rubs his hand over his eyes, muttering, “Fuck this.”

Jisoo’s swept up in a sudden rush of adrenaline, barely able to register what’s going on as Jihoon slams the emergency stop button on the elevator key pad and slams Jisoo’s body back into the mirror equally as hard. The elevator jutters and halts and Jihoon’s lips are on Jisoo’s, cupping his face and kissing him hard. Jisoo’s brain does an absolute error and crashes totally, the only thing he’s able to feel being Jihoon’s body, flush against his own and his mouth, kissing the soul right from his body. He hooks his arms around Jihoon’s shoulders from instinct, melting into the homely warmth and addictive taste as his tongue protrudes his lips.

Jihoon pulls back for a breath, kissing him quickly before muttering, “I can’t do this.” Another kiss. “I’m too addicted to go without a fight.”

Jisoo lets the words sink in, conclusions jumping at him from all corners of his mind while he bites his lip. Jihoon leans in and does the same, Jisoo’s pink, bottom lip caught gently between his teeth. 

“Stop me,” he mutters. He cups Jisoo’s thighs with his hands and hoists his knees up, sliding him back on the banister that ran around the lift. He stands comfortably between his legs and kisses Jisoo’s neck, nipping at the skin as Jisoo tips his head, back resting it against the mirror and moaning. His mind resembles somewhat of a clusterfuck, totally clouded by lust and devotion so much that he can’t think of what’s happening, or why, and lets the words slip from his lips as he goes with the flow.

“It would be totally inconvenient to everyone in the building if I got on my knees and sucked your dick right now, wouldn’t it?”

Jihoon pulls back and stands with his mouth slightly open. “Yes. Uh, probably.”

“Hm,” Jisoo replies, kissing Jihoon and standing, before promptly dropping to his knees against the hard metal floor. He hears a muttered  _ Jesus Christ _ before he switches into auto-drive and lets some sleeping part of his body, woken by the sudden rush of blood do the driving for him.

 

*

 

“I want to know you.”

Jisoo picks his head up from the soft pillows of Jihoon’s bed and smiles sultrily at him as he tugs his pants off his legs. Jisoo’s always known there’s a part of him that, in some ways, is a bit of a slut - he’d encountered it several times during drunken college nights, but never really thought how prevalent it could be. Amongst the slew of dirtily whispered words as the pair practically ran from the office, hand in hand, to Jihoon’s car, up to his apartment, Jisoo realised this part of himself - the lip biting, sexy talking, flirting part of him - does wonders, and he doesn’t much mind letting it overtake his entire body; leave the polite, gentle, timid boy as a shell and inhabit this wild sense of sluttiness that’s come to play. “Oh, I’d think you know me pretty well already,” slutty Jisoo snorts.

Jihoon chuckles and crawls up over his body, dragging his lips from Jisoo’s stomach up to his collarbones. “And I’d think you know what I meant.”

Blushing, but cocking his head and smiling a Cheshire cat grin, Jisoo replies. “Maybe clear that up for me? I get tend to get forgetful when hot men run their tongue all over me.” He bites his lip as Jihoon hovers over him, just barely letting his lips dance over his.

“That happen a lot, huh?”

“More than I care to mention.”

Jihoon grins and smacks Jisoo’s bare thigh. “You’re smart, Jisoo, I’m sure I don’t have to dumb it down any further than saying I want to know how to make you come the hardest.”

Jisoo gulps and breathes out. “Do you want a list?”

Jihoon’s smile is practically devilish, leaning down to whisper into his ear. “Don’t get mouthy, baby boy. I know you’ll love it too much to have me bite you.” From the words alone, Jisoo feels his cock harden, and he lets out a desperate whimper. “You like it when I play with you, don’t you?”

That’s an understatement, to say the least. Jihoon runs his hands down Jisoo’s body, sitting on his hips with his dick under his ass. His delicate yet rough fingertips brush over Jisoo’s pert nipples and the latter gives a jolt, looking at Jihoon intently as he grins.

“A little sensitive, are we?”

Jisoo keeps his lips locked, hoping his eyes portray his beg to be touched while Jihoon takes his own hand, coats two of his own fingers in saliva before bringing them back down and pinching the nipple between the digits. Jisoo lets out a yelp and a whine as Jihoon uses the other hand to rub and flick his other one. Jisoo shifts his legs, dropping his head right back and digging his nails into Jihoon’s thighs. “Hng,” he gasps, “God, t-that’s good…”

“Do you like being teased?”

Jisoo swallows thickly, Jihoon pinching both at the same time. Jisoo gasps and moans out while Jihoon smiles wickedly. "God I could sit and watch how you moan for hours."

“Jesus, please do.”

"But I'm so curious, baby." (Jisoo shivers) "What else can I do to make you mewl like that?”

Jisoo stammers a few times, Jihoon's fingers still toying with his nipple that felt like a constant zap of electricity over his skin.

"Come on, spit it out." Jihoon again pinches it hard again and sudden and Jisoo’s throat closes.

"Talk!" he blurts, biting his quivering lip. "Talk dirty to me."

Jihoon kisses him again, hard, with his tongue, and smoothing his hands over Jisoo's chest, saying, "So if we're to whisper…" he leans down and puts his lips to Jisoo's ear, lowering his voice, "… Jisoo-ah, I missed the feeling of your tight ass around my cock." He sits off Jisoo's dick and kneels, legs either side, still whispering as Jisoo's head thrashes. "I can't wait to fuck your cute, little hole so fast and so hard that you come and still beg me for more… You'd like that." Jihoon takes Jisoo's cock in his grip and tugs it, Jisoo wriggling on the mattress as Jihoon casually makes a hickey by his ear like he wasn’t inciting sexual torture on the boy underneath him.

Everything the man does is so coated in eroticism Jisoo can barely catch his breath. In all his dreams, all his fantasies about totally giving himself to Jihoon, he never imagined it to be as good as it really is. Every second is spent excited and thrilled, ready for something new, ready to feel so good at the hands of a very skilled, sexy man.

"You really do wanna be treated like this, huh?"

Jisoo makes a noise that can only be described by as mix of frustration and yearning. "Yes…" he breathes, rolling his lips together and adding, "call me names like that."

"Like what?" Jihoon pushes. "Like bitch?" Jisoo nods. "Slut?" Jisoo moans. "Whore?" Jisoo throws his head back and cries out as Jihoon traces a nail over the vein on his shaft.

"Please, God, Jihoon!" The mentioned strokes his cock excruciating slowly. "Hnn… Treat me like I'm your slut, please.”

Jihoon lets out a chuckle, Jisoo being able to feel it vibrate against his throat. "I’ve never had a slut all to myself.” Jihoon presses his thumb to the head of Jisoo’s cock, the latter flinching, going to clasp his knees together. “Must be fun to have such a pretty whore like yourself to fuck when I want.”

Jisoo hands fly up, clasping onto the bars of Jihoon’s metal bed frame. Jihoon quirks a smile that Jisoo can’t see with his eyes scrunched closed. “Would you look at that…” Jihoon reaches a hand up, still stroking Jisoo’s dick while spreading precome, and drags a finger from Jisoo’s hand to the shoulder. His touch is so delicate, like a feather, and in such contradiction to the way his other hand jerks and tugs at Jisoo’s cock. It makes Jisoo shiver and tremble with want. “You look like you already want me to tie you up.”

Jisoo moans, the mere images of having rope, rough and prickly, dig into his skin and create red, irritated crevices that last for days make him even wetter. “Please,” he whispers pathetically. “Yes, please.”

“You’d like that?”

Jisoo hears the distinct sound of a belt buckle and opens his eyes to see the black leather from Jihoon’s pants in his hands. His heart skips a beat thinking of the possible, filthy ways that cool could be used on him, and watches eagerly as Jihoon fastens the accessory firmly around Jisoo’s wrists, thick and heavy and halting their ability.

Jihoon scoffs. “I’m just thinking of you wrapped up head to toe in pretty red rope.” He leans his head back and groans. “And now my cock is rock hard.”

Jisoo could feel that much at least.

Jisoo hums and swallows, sweat starting to prick the skin of his body. The room reaches temperatures that Jisoo thought could scold him. If the windows steamed up, he wouldn’t even be surprised. Every single one of Jihoon’s touches sets his skin alight, while every single breath that fanned over his body made him shiver; one minute he’s doused in lava, the next he’s dropped into an ice bath, forever kept on the edge of his seat in excitement.

Jihoon shifts Jisoo, turning him so he lies on his front before pulling his hips up and ass right to his crotch. “I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned one important detail, though.”

Jisoo groans, cheeks fiery red. “But you know that already.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear it.” Jihoon leans over his body and kisses his shoulder. “I want to hear you nice and loud that you want it, and how you want it.”

Jisoo has flashback to weeks earlier, sitting on his knees for the man and saying, “I like it like that though.” He groans and buries his face into the pillow, suddenly so shy and timid feeling Jihoon’s lips burn kisses down his spine. “Jihoon,” he whines. “Please…”

“Come on, baby boy. You’ll not get what you want unless you tell me.”

With his ass cheeks in both of Jihoon’s hands, Jisoo is spread open cold air mixed with Jihoon’s hot breath drifting along the raw, sensitive skin. Jisoo dares to peek over his shoulder, muttering, “Wha-what are you-- oh, fuck me.”

Jihoon bares his tongue and licks a stripe around Jisoo’s ass. Jisoo curves his back, his fingers flexing in the bind and lets out a long, throaty moan. “Fuck, Jihoon!” He drops his head and feels a bead of sweat fall from his nose. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

“Tell me, baby.” Jisoo dirtily spits into the crevice after lapping his tongue once, twice, and teases the tip of his middle finger there, just barely breaching him.

The sting causes a shudder to split through Jisoo’s body, tossing his head back as he gasps, “Pain, please!” in its most basic form. It’s been so long - too long - since he’s felt someone else’s fingers stretch him like this. He groans and rocks on his knees. “Please, hurt me, Jihoon. I like being y-your cute little thing to hurt and fuck and b-bruise.”

“How?” Jihoon’s tone is cold, demanding, strong but Jisoo’s body fires up, like he’s jumped into a bath of gasoline with a lighter in his hand.

Whining loud, he sinks further into the pillows, Jihoon finger doing nothing more than rubbing along his ass mockingly. “Any! Bite me, scratch me, pull my hair, fuck me hard, sp–...” he swallows thickly, hiding his face in the cool refuge of the pillow, “... spank me, Jihoon.” He lets out every goddamned word he’s whispered to himself on a lonely night, desperation leaking into his voice as his cock leaks onto the sheets. “Make my ass red and bleeding, I want you to make it hurt when you spank me and call me a bad slut.” Like some wanton spirit has possessed his poor, helpless body, he goes on. “I only wanna come after you’ve made me cry, made me beg for it. Jihoon, please, God–” Jisoo cuts himself off with a gasp as a sharp pain crawls along the skin of his ass cheek, the kind that makes his body jolt yet all he does is moan at.

Jihoon kisses his shoulder, muttering. “I get the picture: you’re a bad slut and want to be treated like one.” He sinks his teeth in and Jisoo cries out in pain.

“Yes!”

Jihoon lands another spank to the same cheek, harder than the first, the kind that leaves a ring in Jisoo’s ear. “That’s my boy.” He presses Jisoo’s head down into the pillow and smacks the other cheek, keeping up the pace with two, three, four more as Jisoo lets his moans and cries rip into the pillow, saliva staining a patch as he pulls his head up, to gasp and whimper.

“More, Jihoon,” he begs, his demand being met with the hardest spank of them all, one that makes Jisoo jerk forward and fall into the cushion. His moans are inaudible, whimpering as Jihoon’s tender fingers stroke over the red streaks and prominent hand marks on his ass rather than landing another smack. “Jihoon,” he gasps. “Mo–”

Jihoon kneels behind him and digs his nails into his hips, making Jisoo hiss as Jihoon watches to not let the rough material of his pants irritate Jisoo further. “I’d love to spank you so hard you’d turn into a sobbing mess, but I think if I don’t get my dick in your ass right now, I’ll go mad.”

Jisoo perches on his knees as Jihoon rummages through his drawer, seconds later feeling the cold gel press against his sore ass. Jihoon fingers him with care that seems so white against the inky blackness of his hand scathing over his skin. He shushes Jisoo if he groans, hand stroking through his hair to soothe him. Jisoo has to question if he’s being fucked by the same man, the stark difference between the way he cares for him and the way he hurts him is nothing but staggering, though both make Jisoo hard to no ends. The short instance wherein Jihoon’s finger pad brushes against Jisoo’s prostate, and the latter tosses his head back in gasps, “There, Jihoon!” indicates he’s ready.

Under Jihoon’s command, a soft-spoken, “Relax.” Jisoo’s body goes lax and weak as he pulls his hips up, pressing three lubed fingers easily into his ass for good measure before rolling the condom on and easing that asset in instead. Seeing his cock sink so easily in and hearing the beautiful groans fly from Jisoo’s lips, Jihoon closes his eyes, his chest getting heavy and the muscles in his thighs tightening.

“Move, please,” Jisoo says weakly, truthfully, his body being tired and used already, but the minute Jihoon places a kiss on the back of his neck, he feels the sparks jerk his body, the drag of Jihoon’s cock as he pulls out building him up.

A gentle, “Are you good?” sounds from above and Jisoo nods his head, looking over his shoulder with the softest smile he can manage. It was a pause in the drama, the thaw of relaxation before the strings catch up and Jihoon slams his hips right against Jisoo’s ass. The crescendo hits Jisoo hard, his body stretching roughly to accommodate Jihoon’s girth as he gasps and moans and cries out, gripping the pillow with his bounded hands, the leather digging into his skin painfully.

Jihoon doesn’t let up, like he’s learned already that tough is the way for Jisoo. He holds his hips, smoothes his hands over the sweat-slicked skin and leans down to kiss Jisoo’s body, all while his hips snap and smack into his ass.

Pass the miles of Jisoo’s noises echoing around the halls of Jihoon’s home, and the equally disgruntled groans and praises that slip past Jihoon’s lips, Jisoo feels the pulse of Jihoon in him as he grazes again and again against his sweet spot. Every strike feels better than the last, the streaks of white light straining his eyes and he feels the ever familiar coil tighten in his stomach. “Hnng, Jihoon…” he gapes, moaning. Words fail him as he drops his head. He can barely mutter, “Gonna come…” and whines at the feeling of Jihoon’s thrusts slowing down.

Sliding out of him with a groan, Jihoon pulls Jisoo on his side, hoisting his legs up over his shoulders before promptly smacking his hips back in. He holds Jisoo’s head, that thrashes side to side while he begs for him to move, by the chin and husks in his ear, “I want to see your pretty face as you come, okay?”

Jisoo nods, puppy-like whimpers leaving his lips as Jihoon buries himself in, his movements jarred and rugged as he moans out loud. He scrunches his eyes and leans into Jisoo’s skin as the latter clasps the bed frame above him for support. “Jihoon!” he cries, voice loud and pitchy, almost cracking as the buzz, the indescribable static that fires up his insides fizzes and pops the more erratic Jihoon becomes. “Oh, God.” Jisoo doesn’t think and just screams, words flying from his mouth without registering. “Fuck, God, God!”

His knuckles are white and aching as he turns his head, sinking his teeth into the skin of his arm before the whip cracks inside him. His head pulsates, his knees quiver and he comes in thick spurts over himself and Jihoon. He stills and tenses, moans still crumbling from his mouth like an old, helpless building and Jihoon lets out a vulnerable sounding gasp, falling over Jisoo as his condom fills up with his own release.

The lights lining the ceiling are still, but to Jisoo, they flicker and fade into doubles as he blinks and feels his mouth run totally dry. All the weight that left him at the climax comes back, clouding his head and his shoulders like a heavy burden, but he somehow still feels so free. 

Neither of them speak, yet neither feel they need to as Jisoo barely registers Jihoon draping himself over his body, chest heaving, and sweat rolling, giving a lazy, blissed out smile to the former.

Jihoon garners enough strength to reach up and release Jisoo’s hands from his belt that they both had kind of forgotten was there. Jisoo’s arms ache as they come down from over his head and rest around Jihoon’s shoulders whimsically. He considers moving them, awkwardly place them somewhere else but as Jihoon rests his head in the middle of Jisoo’s chest, he thinks he doesn’t need to.

After a prolonged silence full of the pair’s breathing slowly coming back to normal, Jihoon mutters against Jisoo’s skin, “Say something.” and leaves a kiss where his lips brushed against.

Smile curling onto his lips, Jisoo replies, “Something.” before looking down and meeting Jihoon’s eyes.

“Get out of my house.”

Jisoo lets out a laugh as Jihoon returns a playful smile, sitting on his knees with his lips brushing over Jisoo’s He pulls away and tumbles off him, kneeling by the limp body on the bed. “Towel,” he says to himself, slipping off the mattress and disappearing through the door by the window. He reemerges seconds later with a white, hand towel in his grip and seats himself back by Jisoo, rubbing the soft material over his legs, abdomen and his flaccid member.

Jisoo sinks back into the mattress with a fond smile on his face as Jihoon leaves again through the other door, returning with some clothes in his hands. “This is the biggest shirt I have.” He offers out a plain white top that, when worn, reveals a considerable amount of skin over Jisoo’s collarbones and drapes off one of his shoulders (he tries not to think of Jihoon wearing it, knowing the image of his rather pale and petite yet strong body barely clothed with a dingy piece of cloth just thrown over him would make him blush too much). He slides on a pair of gray sweats for himself, and chews his lips, as Jisoo shuffles the thin, silk duvet from under him subtly. “We should talk… probably. Like, about things.”

Jisoo smiles, nestling his head against the soft, squishy pillows and letting out a breath. “Sure, but I can’t guarantee I’ll stay awake to communicate.”

“Is it a bad thing that I fuck you tired?” Jihoon asks. “Is it like, bored tired or exhausted tired.”

“What do you think?” Jisoo smooths his hands over the now clear white satin sheets. “But still, I think I want to sleep before we do too much thinking.”

Jihoon nods. “We can talk in the morning…” He hovers by the bed, leaning in to lift the duvet but stopping himself.

“Are you not sleeping?” Jisoo asks, feeling himself sink slowly into slumber, his words murmured and slow. “This is your bed.”

“Yeah, it’s just... You’re in it.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Jihoon replies, all too quickly. “No, just … would you mind? If we slept together.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Jihoon blushes - an actual red haze dusts over his cheeks - and smiles, cautiously itching under the quilt as Jisoo rolls into it, pulling the no doubt expensive sheets up to his chin. The bed seems miles long, but Jihoon finds his spot close to Jisoo, the two lying exactly in the middle, facing one another. Jihoon’s eyes are open as Jisoo’s drift closed, his body physically easing as he melts into rest but not before he feels the faint touch of Jihoon’s hand, ghosting over his temple and brushing a stray strand of his fringe from his eyes.

Jisoo ends the peaceful quiet with a playful sigh, hoping his words are taken well as he jokes, “Typical. You sleep with a guy twice and he doesn’t even cuddle you.”

Hint strongly took, Jihoon chuckles and drapes and arm over Jisoo’s hip, shuffling further into his warmth and letting his lips press gently to Jisoo’s forehead. “Please stay this time,” he says in a whisper, barely audible like he wasn’t meant to be saying it at all.

Jisoo opens one eye and sees Jihoon finally has his closed and smiles. If this is what the nightmare would feel like, he never wants to wake up.

 


	7. VII

Jisoo wonders, as he pulls himself from a deep, comfortable sleep, how on earth he managed to get into this position. He lies practically on top of Jihoon, head resting in the junction of his neck with their legs tangled in a cluster. Jihoon’s left arm is tucked around Jisoo’s shoulders while the other ends a hand which cups Jisoo’s thigh. Their faces are inches away as Jisoo lifts his head up and Jihoon’s soft, controlled breathing bats gently over his lips. Jisoo has to resist the overwhelming urge to lean down and give Jihoon a kiss.

He wishes there to be a word that describes the mixed feeling of peace, excitement and somehow skittishness, because that’s exactly what flutters around Jisoo’s head as he lets his tired, sleep crusted eyes fall over Jihoon’s tranquil face. He felt a sense of iniquity as he lies with his body engulfed by a man who he should have no ties to other than that of professionalism. But he’s sure they both know by now they’re past the stage of simple employment.

Jihoon starts to stir as Jisoo shuffles his stiff body, wanting to break free to flex his aching bones but at the same time wishing to never have to sleep alone when such an alternative like this exists. Jihoon lets out a gentle sigh, nuzzling his head into the pillow while his fingers twitch, the hand wrapped around Jisoo’s thigh starting to rub lazily.

In most part, Jisoo can barely believe it. Thinking back to the time that seemed like years but really reflects mere months, Jisoo would’ve never thought the man that he sat at his desk fantasizing about could have been in the somewhat compromising state he currently is. Jihoon lies in his arms, he’s kissed his lips, explored his body; he treads the line of consciousness and slumber looking like a normal, vulnerable human, not the bulletproof CEO of a worldwide business he presents himself to be, but just as Jihoon, a man who’s as helpless and lost as the rest of them.

Jihoon blinks a few times, squints and hums as the arm under the sheets and the arm tucked around Jisoo flexes and stretches. Jisoo shimmies up to allow space as Jihoon’s eyes flutter open fully, warmth washing over his face, smiling with two shallow dimples sinking into his cheeks. “Hi,” he greets, his voice deep and croaky, and Jisoo can’t help but smile and whisper back.

“Hi.”

Reaching a hand up, Jihoon drags his fingers through the hair that falls over Jisoo’s eyes in an intimately soft gesture. “How did you sleep?”

“Good.”

Jisoo, although hating it, knows he masters the art of small talk, and wants nothing more than the opposite to ensue. This feeling is bliss: the warmth of Jihoon against him, the softness of his touches that prickle goosebumps over his skin, the total bustling city replaced by ambiance as they stare into one another’s eyes. He doesn’t want it to end, nor does he want to face the realism of Jihoon not actually being his.

He can’t hide forever though.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Can I ask you something first?”

Jisoo cracks a smile, taken back, and nods.

“Can I kiss you?”

The smile grows into a grin. “You never have to ask.”

Jihoon cups Jisoo’s jaw with his hand rolls him closer with the other one. He kisses him calmly, gently, like they have all the time in the world to sit and kiss and embrace one another, right from sunrise to sun fall. Feeling Jihoon’s lips against his, Jisoo physically calms, like they inject some sort of drug into his system that makes him oblivious to all wrong in the world. His hand rests on Jihoon’s bicep, stroking up and down over the defined muscle until his rests on his shoulder, later his chin. Jihoon pulls away for a second before he kisses him once, twice more in quick, soft pecks before resting his head back on the pillow, his cheeks dusted with pink. “As you were saying…”

Jisoo flushes, for a moment allowing himself to be lost in Jihoon’s eyes, before he bites his lip. “Yesterday you said you had something to tell me, but you never said it.” His hand still cups Jihoon’s chin, stroking his thumb along the sharp jawline. “Say it.”

Taking a deep breath in, Jihoon shuffles his head against the pillows, blinking a few times before exhaling, the words tumbling out with it. “I like you,” he admits, chewing the inside of his lip. “Like, a lot.”

Everything feels rather childishly sweet; they seemed like nothing more than two lovesick teenagers shyly confessing their love concealed under the bleachers or behind a book in the library. Jisoo’s heart hammers happily in his chest, his head fluttering with wonderful, youthful tenderness as he smiles at Jihoon.

“Tell me you do too.”

“I do,” Jisoo replies almost instantly. “I do.”

Jihoon pulls him in again, this time bringing their bodies flush together and attacking his lips once more. Jisoo adjusts his position, his hands exchanging between cupping Jihoon’s face and sliding around his waist, holding him dear like a bubble in his palms. “You know what comes next, right?” Jihoon says, before hastily filling Jisoo’s words with another kiss.

“Well,” one more, “I’d say sex but we kinda jumped that hurdle.”

Jihoon laughs gently and hums, opening his mouth to speak before stopping and just smiling, letting out a sigh. “I’ve never been good at this.”

“At what?”

“Asking people things… And feelings.”

“Well, what do you want to ask me?”

Jihoon wets his lips and presses his forehead against Jisoo’s, the quiet that fills the room almost suffocating as Jisoo’s is sure Jihoon can hear the sound of his heart hammering. With an exhale, Jihoon whispers, “God, why are you so perfect?”

“Is that what you wanted to ask me?” Jisoo replies. “If so, I don’t know, a mixture of chromosomes from my mom and dad–”

“Jisoo.”

Jisoo maintains his smile, an expectant, almost cheeky one as Jihoon fumbles with his words.

In one big gush, Jihoon breathes out and blurt. “Will you date me?” He bites his lip, eyes flashing between Jisoo’s in a sudden panic. “I mean, like, be my boyfriend and all?” He closes his eyes and grunts, “God, this feels childish.”

This is, in most, exactly what Jisoo’s always wanted to hear: Jihoon wants him - genuine, pure-hearted want - and it sends indescribable boats of emotions floating through his every vein. He rests his head against the pillow, smiling, before his face falls. Frantically, Jisoo looks anywhere than Jihoon’s eyes, the feeling of guilt flooding his bones and he calmly starts to edge away. He hadn’t planned to get this far; he didn’t know what to do now that Jihoon’ had actually said it and had actually asked him. He had meant to have put a stop to this madness by now; he had meant to have moved on. It was never meant to get this out of hand.

Slipping from the bedsheets, Jisoo stands by the window facing the vast city view, feeling Jihoon’s eyes on him and hugging the t-shirt closer around his body.

“I do like you, Jihoon.” Jisoo takes a deep breath in and lets it out, his eyes fluttering shut. “There’s just a lot happening… in my head, right now.”

_ It was a stupid crush, _ he says to himself, one that he was meant to forget about and move on because such a person like Jihoon is so unattainable, he felt wrong imagining them together. Despite how much he knew it should, he knows now equally as much that he doesn’t want it to, nor can it. Jisoo knows he can’t fix it. He’s in too deep, he’s too immersed in Jihoon’s everything to merely let it go. In a sense, it’s all or nothing.

He hears the sheets rustle, Jihoon sitting up in the bed. “Well…” he begins, “we don’t have to rush into anything. We can go as slow as you need.”

Jisoo, seeing his faint reflection in the glass, smiles sadly, the terrible lurching of his stomach making him wobble, but doesn’t reply until Jihoon continues.

“Be honest with me.”

Jisoo looks over his shoulder.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

With a dry snort and while leaning back against the window, Jisoo complies, “A lot… of mad stuff.”

“Let it out.” Jihoon sits upright. “I want to help you, you know.”

“You’ll think I’m stupid.”

“What is this, the fifth grade–” Jisoo smiles “–just say it.”

Jisoo takes a deep breath in, succumbing to the sound of Jihoon’s gentle, soothing voice. “Jihoon, I don’t belong in this kind of world.” He gestures around the room, signifying the lavish riches. “This kind of… life, where you drink champagne from a glass with diamonds in and you have personal jets and black cards. I wasn’t born into a place so… extravagant and rich and I just don’t fit in.” He lets his arms fall limply to his sides. “And my best friend has told me all about how I need to take a leap and we’re all just humans—"

“Your best friend’s smart.”

“I know, he has a degree in engineering, but that’s not the point. The point is…” Jisoo stops and thinks hard.

“... There is no point, is there?”

This time, there is.

“No, there is. It’s just hard to explain in detail, but hear me out when I say that when I look you at you, I see a million dollars and a life full of luxury. I look at me and I see a cheap twenty bucks and someone just trying to get by.”

Jihoon rubs the faint stubble emerging above his cupid’s bow and nods, quiet filling the bedroom before he speaks. “That’s it?” he asks, making Jisoo quirk an eyebrow. “That’s the big reason you’re scared to date me? Because you’re boiling me down to nothing more than my wealth?”

Jisoo opens his mouth, stammering. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds–”

“Stupid?”

Jisoo slumps back and nods.

With a smile, Jihoon leaves the bed and stuffs his hands into his sweats. “Jisoo…” he begins, his eyes landing on the figure. “What would you say if I were to tell you that you’re the first boy I’ve ever confessed to?”

Jisoo thinks for a second, trying to conjure up the possibilities of where this conversation can lead. “I would… ask you if you’d really never had a boyfriend, or girlfriend, before.”

“And to that, I would reiterate what I said before: I’ve never been good with feelings.”

Jisoo lowers himself on the backless couch, tugging the shirt over his knees and letting Jihoon continue.

“I know that the answers to everything floating around your mind seem unreachable, but at the end of the day, isn’t it all just because you’re scared?

“I’ve waited all of my thirty years of life to find someone I thought was worth me taking a risk for. How do I know that, after confessing to you and trusting you, you aren’t going to drain my bank account and run off with someone you really love? How do I know that you’re not going to pretend to love me and then, when I whimsically pop the question, you slip cyanide into my food and take my inheritance?

Jisoo, taken back with his gut twisting uncomfortably, opens his mouth. “Because I’m–”

“Not that kind of person, right?”

Jisoo swallows.

“I’m not the kind of person who lives with how much they have in their pocket, and I can tell you don’t either. Sure, there are people who make their wealth their worth, but they’re stupid, because - and I know it’s cheesy to say, but–” Jihoon inhales deeply, “money doesn’t buy happiness.”

Jisoo chews his lip, a car speeding around his race track mind of thoughts. “Money can buy you a footlong from Subway.” He looks up to see Jihoon smiling. “That makes me pretty happy.”

“Granted, but money can’t buy you that big, scary, four lettered word now can it?” Jihoon steps forwards and cups Jisoo’s face in his hands. “Think - would you still want me if you met me and I was nothing more than a boring office worker who has big dreams but no money to do them?”

Without hesitation, Jisoo nods.

“That’s exactly my point.” Jihoon leans down and kisses him, a short, gentle peck where he spends more time looking lovingly into Jisoo’s eyes. “I know you don’t want to go into a relationship without being a hundred percent certain on everything, and even having fear about it is harrowing. But as your friend said, make a leap right?”

Jisoo smiles up at Jihoon and nods, a warm wave of comfort rushing over him as he takes his hands and holds them to his lips. “Right,” he whispers and places a kiss gently over Jihoon’s knuckles.

“Now stop being so stupid and take a shower. You smell like sex and dried come.”

Jisoo laughs heartily and stands, giving Jihoon another kiss before saying, “Before I give my definite answer, just give me some time to think about things thoroughly.”

Jihoon, although his smile is weaker than before, nods and strokes his chin. “Whatever you need.”

“I just want to make sure my head’s in the right place before I commit myself to a relationship where I am no longer a singular being but also the emotional support for another.”

“Wow, you make relationships sound like so much fun.”

Jisoo smirks and leans in, “Well, I’m sure we can find many ways to spice it up.” Before his lips touch Jihoon’s, however, he turns to head nodding it to the door in the far right corner of the room. “Shower through there?”

Clearly flustered, Jihoon nods, cheeks flushing a red unusually bright for a confident guy like him.

Standing in the entirely tiled room, Jisoo examines the selection of foreign looking knobs and twisters, buttons and options, and frowns. Was this a shower or damn spaceship? He turns back to the bedroom and sees Jihoon fixing the bed sheets, smiling to himself as Jisoo watches on, a sudden burst of happiness swelling in his chest. He could definitely think clearer, like a great, everlasting ripple of hope had washed over not only him, but Jihoon as well, and it seems that from here on out, the only way is up. Jisoo grins and leans against the door, clearing his throat. “Oh, would you look at that!” he says dramatically, holding a hand to his head exaggeratedly. “I have no idea how to control this thing. Looks like I’ll need someone to shower with me…”

Looking up from the bed spread, Jihoon smirks at Jisoo, who flashes him a sultry yet sweet smile, disappearing back into the washroom with a swing of his hip. He drops the pillow on the bed, unable to straighten his face back to normal as he looks up at the white ceiling, muttering, “Thank you,” as if he were thanking some omnipotent force in the sky. God knows he’s really been blessed as he chuckles and promptly folds to Jisoo’s rescue.

 

*

 

“Jeonghan!”

Jisoo stops before he walks into Jeonghan’s room, hearing a whispered, “Put your pants back on!” until a louder, “Yes, my lovely best friend?”

He leans against the door, facing out into the main room and smiles. “I need relationship advice.”

“You have come to the right place! Just, uh…” There’s an awkward clatter inside of the bedroom, and Jisoo doesn't even want to imagine what kind of state he almost walked in on, “give me second!”

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Jisoo says, opting to fish through the fridge a for a snack, despite having eaten a mere half hour ago with Jihoon, while Jeonghan and— who Jisoo hopes is Mingyu make themselves presentable.

“So… so, so, so, so.” Jeonghan practically rushes from his room, glasses balanced on his nose as opposed to having contacts with his hair messy and tousled. “First of all, what’s the verdict? Are we in, are we out?”

“We are one toe in away from throwing ourselves in head first.” Jisoo takes a sip from his orange juice glass. “Which is where you come in.”

Mingyu emerges from the room, buttoning up his shirt and placing a lazy kiss to Jeonghan’s cheek before smiling at Jisoo. “If guys need to talk, I can—”

“No, a third opinion would be really good, actually.”

“Hold on, I’m a bit confused.” Jeonghan looks at Jisoo. “Did he ask you to date him or not?”

“He did.”

“And what did you say?”

“That I wanted to think about it.”

Jeonghan pauses, frozen. Heholds his palms on Jisoo shoulders and hums. “You know I love you, right?”

Jisoo quirks an eyebrow and nods. “Yeah…”

“And I would never intentionally hurt you.”

“I hope not.”

“Unless you deserved it, of course.”

With a pause, then a sigh, Jisoo sets his glass on the island. “Come on, give it to me.” and receives a sharp, yet not too painful smack across his left cheek.

“Why would you say you wanted to think about it?” Jeonghan exasperates, shaking Jisoo slightly.

Using his hand to nurse his tingling face, but not stopping to ponder on the pain, Jisoo protests, “Because that’s what I want to do, I want to think about it!”

“What is there to think about?!”

“A lot of things!”

"Like what?"

"Jeonghan, we're forgetting the very important detail that Jihoon is my boss!" Jisoo slumps back against the counter and runs his hand through his hair. "Where, in any conventional situation, has it been acceptable to date your boss? I mean, this is exactly what Cosmopolitan argues against, blurring the line between business and pleasure."

Jeonghan looks somewhat dumbfounded and frowns. "So after weeks– no, actual  _ months _ of all this hard to get bullshit, you're gonna grow weary because he's your boss?"

"Yes."

"You didn't seem to care much about that when he was shoving his cock down your throat!"

Mingyu clears his throat before Jisoo can reply and interjects himself into the conversation, “If I can comment–”

“You can’t.”

“No, Mingyu.” Jisoo looks over Jeonghan’s shoulder to the tall boy standing looking utterly confused. “You can.”

“Yeah, uhm, what actually is going on?”

Jeonghan looks at Mingyu, then at Jisoo, then flashes his gaze back to the former. “Sit down, baby,” he sighs, “It’s storytime."

 


	8. VIII

"Let me get this straight." Mingyu sets down his coffee mug and looks between Jisoo and Jeonghan. "Jisoo and his boss have basically been fucking around for the last month or so after Jisoo has been crushing on him since he employed him. But now Jisoo's boss has actually confessed and after much hesitation, Jisoo is met with even more hesitation over the fact that his boss is his boss, despite… having already… basically fucked around with him?"

"Not just that… I mean there are other factors too." Jisoo stops gnawing at his fingernail and drops his hands to his sides. "But yeah, that's basically it."

"And now he wants our help to…" Jeonghan looks from Mingyu to Jisoo, "What do you want us to do?"

"Help me decide whether it's a good idea or not to date him," Jisoo slumps back into the armchair and sighs as Jeonghan scoffs, leaning back into Mingyu where he sits on his lap, the latter bringing his strong arms around to cradle him.

"Of course, even if he found out his boss was the leader of the Mafia and strung up six enemies a week he'd still probably jump back into his pants."

"Not necessarily!" Jisoo protests, "Listen, I just want to know what I'm getting into, that's all."

"So, at the end of the day, you'll date him anyway?" Mingyu asks.

Jisoo rubs his face with his hands and sighs. "I–" he begins, but he finds he has no answer for the end. To phrase, an answer would mean he’d have to untangle the masses upon masses of hectic emotions and doubts in his head, which he doesn't know if he's ready to do yet. "I don't know," he says. "Look, for now, will you guys just try to help me think of an unbiased conclusion?" Jisoo jumps up and wanders into his bedroom, fishing around in his desk for a spare notepad and a pencil.

"How are we gonna help you with that, then?" Jeonghan questions as Jisoo re-enters.

"We're gonna do it the old-fashioned way…" On the paper, Jisoo scribbles a line down one page, writing at the top of each division, "… by making a pros and cons list."

Jeonghan laughs and snuggles closer into Mingyu. "Okay, this is fun." He reaches over on the couch and grabs his laptop, balancing it on his knees. "What are we considering? Money, power, position…"

"Everything," Jisoo says, twirling the pencil between his fingers. "We're gonna consider everything about him. First, any cons?"

As Jeonghan punches his laptop keys, Mingyu hums. "He's your boss right?"

"Right."

"If you guys had a fight, you'd be stuck at work all day together."

"Ooh," says Jeonghan, looking up from his laptop screen with a wince. "Yeah, that's a biggie." He looks at Mingyu. "I can't even imagine being stuck with you all day and not wanting to blow my brains out."

Jisoo cuts Mingyu off before he can even open his mouth. "Valid point! But… I don't know, would we really fight that much?"

"Every couple fights," Jeonghan tuts. "It's human nature."

Jisoo nods understandingly, taking the stencil and scribbling down in the set margin, ‘always working together.’

"Then again, that could be a good thing," Mingyu adds. "Like, you see so much of one another… it could make things go quicker and easier."

"Hm, you see, I see that as a con," Jeonghan inputs. "Wouldn't you get sick of seeing him?"

Jisoo taps his pen at his chin, thinking before a smile erupts on his face, and a blush dusts his cheeks. Before he can answer, Jeonghan groans.

"Of course you wouldn't," he says, "that probably maximizes your kinky fuckery, right?"

Jisoo chuckles and scribbles something down on his pad. "' maximizes kinky fuckery'… got a ring to it."

"That's a pro, maybe," Mingyu jumps, "You guys have similar tastes, right? In that… kind of thing?"

Jisoo nods while he bites his cheek, trying to ignore the way he remembers the sting of Jihoon's palm across his ass or the way he can feel his bite still pierce his shoulder. "Yeah, I think," he chuckles, adding that to the pros list.

"Okay, so it says here that the company is worth $2.2 billion and counting, and since Jihoon's the CEO, that's basically his net worth." Jeonghan looks at Jisoo stupidly. "If you marry him you'll be a billionaire, Jisoo!"

"That's irrelevant–"

"Ah-ah…" Jeonghan smirks, "you said consider everything, and I'm considering if you'll be stable in life. You don't just need a man who's good looking and can fuck you good–" Jisoo gapes. "–you need a man who can take care of you when all is said and done."

"I can take care of myself, Jeonghan."

"Oh, really? So if Mingyu and I stole all your money and ran off to Bora Bora, you wouldn't rely on Jihoon then?"

Jisoo opens his mouth, but closes it, shaking his head and writing the point down under pros.

"What do we have?" Jeonghan asks, sliding back on the couch to let Mingyu escape.

"One con, three pros."

"Four! He's very good looking," Jeonghan adds. "Probably, I've never seen him but I'll assume."

‘Handsome,’ Jisoo writes, not able to stop his hands from scribbling: hot, funny, sweet…

"What about his personality?"

Jisoo looks up at Mingyu, who sits down and pulls Jeonghan back into his lap. He glances down at the notepad and hums. "He's nice."

"Yeah, the kind of guy to take care of stray kittens and feed the homeless," Jeonghan jests, taking a sip of Mingyu's drink.

"He actually does, uhm, help the homeless…" Jisoo informs. "He donates a lot to charity and works at shelters on holidays."

"I'd like for this guy to not have one thing that's not perfect about him."

Mingyu points to Jisoo. "He's charming?"

Jisoo bites the tip of the pencil and thinks; he thinks about the many, many times Jihoon has used his feisty tongue to say something smooth or captivating or used the same tongue to woo him equally with roughly whispered, tantalizing words. "Hm, I guess."

"He was charming enough to make you strip."

"Jeonghan, please."

"Okay, okay," the latter chuckles, "but aren't we forgetting the biggest problem you have?"

Jisoo quirks an eyebrow.

"You're worried it's unprofessional or some shit?"

"Oh," Jisoo nods. "Uhm, yeah…" He scratches the back of his head. "Cosmo says–"

"On the subject, why do you read that?" Jeonghan interrupts.

"Every gay bottom reads Cosmopolitan, Jeonghan."

Jeonghan quirks his eyebrow at Mingyu, who sighs sadly. "It's true."

After earning a disappointed look, Jisoo continues. "Cosmo says that treading the line between business and pleasure is dangerous and that the corporate world is full of tricks, lies, and deceit – no place for romance."

"Yeah, but who listens to that magazine anyway?" Jeonghan shrugs. "Like, does that even matter?"

Before Jisoo can inhale to reply. Mingyu stands and takes a stance between the two, holding his hands out as if he were to stop a physical fight. "Okay, although I do like to… browse the sex tips that Cosmopolitan offers sometimes, I think I know what Jeonghan's getting at." He turns to Jisoo and points both hands at him. "You like what's-his-name–"

"Jihoon."

"–Jihoon, right?"

Jisoo nods.

"With, like, actual feeling-ly feelings?"

Again, a nod.

"Then why are we treating this like it's a business move rather than two real people, with real hearts and real feelings?"

Jisoo sits quiet, looking down as the words hit him like a verbal slap to the face.

Mingyu carries on, absorbing the silence that Jeonghan and Jisoo give. "Relationships are hard, hyung, and you want to know everything before going into a new one, especially if you’re after coming from a bad one." He chuckles. "Do you think that, before I got with Jeonghan, I knew we'd be hating each other more than we'd be liking one another–" Jisoo looks up at Jeonghan, who visibly winces. "Relationships throw things at you that you don't expect, and you can't sit here planning out what will work and what won't. I don't know Jihoon, but I know what it's like to put things out there and confess – I'm sure we all do. And I think, right now, he's probably checking his phone every twenty seconds to see if you've texted, or called him, tearing his hair out thinking that he's gone too far or that he's scared you off.

"You just told me you like him, right? Well, from what I've heard, he goddamned likes you too. So, if you really want a third opinion, I say it's all good and well us sitting here and making a pros and cons list, but Jihoon's a human. Just like the rest of us. And we shouldn't treat him like he's this bump in the road that you can either go over or go around. Take a–"

"Leap?" Jisoo looks up, his throat closing and the threat of tears pinching at his eyes, which he tries to hide with a clear of his throat. "Yeah, I think I've heard that advice." He pauses and lets out a dejected sigh, holding his head in his hands. "God, I'm such a fucking moron."

Mingyu chuckles and sits back next to Jeonghan, who curls up in his lap and mutters something into his ear. "Aren't we all?"

Jisoo rubs his forehead, the feeling of a headache coming on as his heart begins to ache all the same. He feels stupid. Stupid and dirty and wrong. It's only taken four people to gradually hammer the realization into him. Jisoo's taken so much time to think about how he'll be affected in a relationship - how he'll look standing next to Jihoon, how he'll look dating his boss - that he's hardly considered that this is real life – with real people, with real hearts and real feelings, and he's done nothing to soothe that of the only other man Jisoo's truly fallen for. He rubs his hands over his suddenly tired face and breathes out. His chest feels tight like there are two strong hands digging in and ripping his heart apart; he feels like he's about to explode. He's got to fix it, he's got to do something now; he can't wait until Monday to tell Jihoon this. With his fists clenched and a determined fire crackling and sparking in his heart, Jisoo jumps from his seat and starts towards the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” Jeonghan quizzes, Jisoo pausing at the open door to look back.

“To, uh... get my man.”

Snatching his coat from the rack and storming from the apartment, Jisoo powers through the street as a roll of thunder crashes from above.

 

*

 

Jisoo punches the penthouse key on the elevator pad, watching the button light up as his chest heaves and he pants, lightning striking and rain being tossed towards the earth outside. He looks at himself in the lift mirrors and does a double take– he stands, dripping wet from the summer storm that washes over the city, hair soaked with his clothes clinging to his body. He runs a hand through the wet mop on top of his head and squeezes the water from it, doing the same with his t-shirt and grimacing at puddle under his feet. "Great," he mutters, shivering and hugging his arms around him tighter, "going to do this sopping wet, alright…" He stares at his reflection, examining the way his cheeks look flushed and his eyes hooded with bags, yet still shimmering in the center at the thought of clearing his chest to Jihoon. He swallows, throat thick from running and takes a deep breath in, almost sprinting from the elevator as the doors slide open and standing in front of Jihoon's door with his clenched fist raised.

Jisoo tries to steady his breathing, inhales sharp and exhales loud. He pushes his bangs from his face, keeping them in an almost quiff like state on top of his head as he mutters, "Don't be an idiot, don't be an idiot, don't be an idiot." and finally lands his knuckles on the hard metal door.

The seconds he waits drag on like hours, all he's able to hear in his head is the pounding of his heart drowning out the thoughts of what he wants to say. He digs his nails into his palms as he hears the click of the lock, and a grunt as the usually unused door to the penthouse is lugged open.

Jisoo opens his mouth as the warmth from the house floods to his cold, wet body, only to stop, his breath getting caught in his throat as he looks at the man opening the door.

Unless Jihoon's had extensive plastic surgery over the course of the morning, this is not him. Jisoo looks around to check he has the right apartment then looks at the man as he clears his throat. He's taller than Jihoon, more strongly built with broader shoulders and a white dress shirt that shows his physique off. His face is rounder, softer, fuller cheeks and big eyes with dashing lashes brushing over them. He looks at Jisoo with a mix of confusion and intrigue as he says, in a deep, smooth voice, "Can I help you?"

Jisoo doesn't know where his words have gone. The sounds keep getting stuck in his throat. All he manages to choke out is a pathetic, "Jihoon?" before his face flushes and he visibly shrinks under the stranger's gaze.

"You're looking for Jihoon?" he asks, looking back onto the house quickly before smiling a bright gummy smile.

Million of explanations run through Jisoo's head, none of which he hopes are true. The man looks professional - in his nice shirt and smart looking pants - like he's just left work and is relaxing, comfortable at home… If Jihoon's house is his home, what does that make them? Then again, there's nothing in the apartment that Jisoo's seen that would indicate two inhabitants. This man could certainly be a very well dressed escort…

No, Jisoo that's a very big assumption, and a very rude one, he could simply just be–

"Are you… Jisoo, by any chance?"

Jisoo looks at the man with wide eyes. "H-how did you know my name?"

The man practically radiates, grinning wide as he sticks out his hand. "Hi! Jihoon's told me so much about you!"

Though still confused, Jisoo takes the hand and warmly shakes it, not wanting to appear rude but subtly glancing behind the stranger in hopes of seeing Jihoon. He opens his mouth, only to have a third voice interrupt them. "Daddy!" it calls, small and cute, and the man turns around instantly, dropping to his knees to pick up a small toddler in his arms. Jisoo’s mind jumps from one conclusion to another. 

The stranger turns around and smiles at Jisoo, a little boy tucked safely at his hip as he carries on, "I'm Seungcheol, Jihoon's best friend–" (Jisoo hopes the breath he releases isn't too obvious) "–and this is Minghao, my son, and Jihoon's godson. We're house-sitting."

"Oh," Jisoo says, nodding with a smile quirking at his lips as Minghao shyly hides his face in his dad's neck. "Lovely to meet you. Uh…" He swallows thickly, "is… Jihoon not here?"

"Oh! No, sorry." Seungcheol hoists Minghao further up and smiles sadly. "He's gone to the south for the weekend, but he will be at work on Monday." He looks Jisoo up and down. "You're soaked, did you walk in the rain?"

"I ran, actually."

"Do you want to come in and dry off?"

Jisoo snaps himself from wondering and shakes his head, "Oh, no, I couldn't intrude, especially since… uh, Jihoon's not there."

"I'm sure he won't mind if you, of all people, use his home," Seungcheol laughs. "Really, I insist. I'd love to get to know you."

Jisoo doesn't want to let the disappointment in his heart show. He pulls the most believable smile he can and shakes his head. "Really, no, I have to go anyway, left the, uh, car running."

Seungcheol pauses before nodding, smiling back. "Sure, okay. Another time?"

"Hm-hm, surely."

Jisoo collapses back into the elevator as it sinks down to the parking lot of the building, holding his head heavy in his hands.

 

*

 

Monday couldn't have swung around quick enough for Jisoo. He stands in the elevator, jumping and jittery, sensitive to every sound, thud, and touch. He's barely slept– he spent too long thinking about Jihoon, tossing and turning, the words left unsaid staining his tongue like an aged date. He's so desperate, so ready to tell Jihoon everything; the monologue ready to be expressed with his entire heart's content… But he feels like something's missing. He can't keep his hands still, something Jeonghan tells him is a usual habit when he's anxious or has misplaced something. He keeps fidgeting with his fingers; scratching at his neck, his hair; biting his nails. He's already been asked by three people if he's okay, one even suggesting he cuts out the drugs. On the day he's most adamant to get right, he can't help feeling he's getting something wrong.

Jisoo sifts through his bag one more time, on top of the four or five he has already since catching the train this morning. He runs through the checklist in his head: keys, wallet, files one through six (one, two, three four… five's been handed already to marketing, and six), Filofax… nothing's not there, but still, Jisoo can't shake off the feeling of something missing from his hands.

The elevator dings and Jisoo quickly sports out of it, the stretch of corridor growing longer, the people greeting him getting wider, the more he strives towards the door at the end. His head feels light, his palms sweating like he's doped up some drug called emotion and drunk on a beer called Lee Jihoon. He can't help but smile as he dumps his bag on his desk, not bothering to unpack just yet. Excitement ripples over his skin, jeering his body like a jumpstart, so impassioned to finally make Jihoon his as he reaches for the door–

"You know Minghao's really missed going to Build-a-Bear with his favorite Uncle."

Jisoo jumps back and stumbles by his desk, blinking at the two men leaving Jihoon's office.

"Seungcheol, I'm his only unc–Jisoo."

Jisoo looks straight at Jihoon and feels his heart start to make a racket in his chest. "Jihoon," he replies, "hi."

"Hi." Like he's forgotten Seungcheol's presence, Jihoon's eyes lock totally on Jisoo, the latter being able to feel the warmth radiate from him. "H-how are you?"

"I'm good!" Jisoo beams. "Really good, in fact."

"Nice to see you again, Jisoo."

Jisoo snaps his attention to Seungcheol, stammering, "O-oh, yes." He sticks his hand out on instinct. 

Jihoon stares in confusion as the two shake hands. "Again? Wait, what?"

"Jisoo came to your apartment Saturday afternoon." Seungcheol smiles at Jihoon and the pair share a look.

"You did?"

"I did!" Jisoo bites his tongue and tries to not look too tense. "Well, I had something to tell you."

Jihoon's eyes light up. "You did?"

"I bet you thought I was a hooker."

Jisoo and Jihoon look at Seungcheol suddenly, Jisoo gaping, "I-I didn't, really, I… was confused, is all."

"You thought Seungcheol was a hooker?"

"Of course not!"

"I bet he was a bit jealous."

"Seungcheol–"

"Jihoon, can we talk?" Jisoo plays with his fingernails, nervously biting his lip. "In your office, please?"

Jihoon smiles and looks at Seungcheol, giving his friend a touch on the elbow, before motioning for Jisoo to enter his room. Behind the closed door, he smirks and points at Jisoo playfully.

"Before you say anything, I need to tell you how sorry I am–"

"You were jealous."

"I was not jealous."

"Oh, really?" Jihoon leans back against the thick wooden door and stuffs his hands in his pockets, smart smile staining his handsome face. "So you wouldn't be jealous if I hired a hooker?"

"No, of course, I would be, but– can you listen for a second?" Jisoo steps forward and takes Jihoon's hands in his. "This is really important."

Jihoon chuckles and rolls his head back. "I wish I was there to see how jealous you were."

Jisoo tries to shush him, only to let the amused giggle escape past his lips. "Oh," he shakes his head and sighs, "for God's sake." Promptly, Jisoo grasps Jihoon by his black tie and yanks him in, pulling their bodies flush together with his arms around his shoulders, lips locked in an airy, passionate demand for attention.

Jihoon hums into the kiss, pulling away with a smirk and having Jisoo press their lips together once, twice more. "Does this mean you–" another kiss "–have answer for me?"

Jisoo kisses him deeply, cupping his hands over his cheeks and hoping his mouth works well in conveying the answer. Jihoon holds him impossibly closer, exchanging his hands between grasping at Jisoo's waist to rubbing over his chest.

"Does this mean you're mine?"

Jisoo nods, pulling away to hold his forehead to Jihoon's, their labored breathing fawning over one another's skin in an oddly sudden, tender moment. "Yeah," Jisoo whispers, quirking his lips as Jihoon bites his. "… Yeah. I mean, you could’ve mentioned to me you were going to the south and that a stranger would be looking after your apartment! I was so embarrassed! I had run like thirty blocks in the rain, I was dripping wet, probably crying–”

Jihoon pulls him in by the loops on his belt and makes a vulnerable gasp as he crashes a kiss onto Jisoo with their tongues tangling, teeth clattering and lips being bitten. "Tell me," Jihoon breathes as he jumps to his tiptoes to kiss around Jisoo's jaw. “Tell me you're mine.”

"I'm yours," Jisoo replies, grunting as Jihoon reaches down and grasps his ass with both hands. Suddenly he forgets everything but him, and rest one hand on he wall behind Jihoon. He laughs and holds Jihoon's chin with one finger. "Yeah, that's yours too."

"You're all mine," Jihoon comments, running his hands over Jisoo's body like he was searching for something, but rather he just wants to feel every inch of him. "I've never wanted anyone as bad as you."

Jisoo feels breathless, caught up from kissing just as much as the mere way Jihoon feels him. This was it. The weeks of fear and pinning, curling up in bed almost crying; the roller coaster his emotions and his body have been on, everything's led up to his moment and Jisoo feels like he's about to implode with exhilaration. He feels somewhat invincible now that it's all come to a solution: Jihoon's his, he's firmly by his side, and that feeling relishes confidence and radiates happiness. He cups Jihoon’s face again and kisses him sweetly. “Show me.”

Jihoon’s eyes bore into his. “Show you?”

“Show me how I’m yours and how bad you’ve wanted me.” Jisoo bites his lip like Jihoon, who smiles and reaches out behind him, flicking the lock on the office door and walking Jisoo back until he hits the glass desk.

Jihoon’s fingers thread his belt from his jeans while Jisoo hastily tears open the buttons of his shirt. The contact of his hands on Jisoo’s skin, scaling up his torso and brushing teasingly over his nipples is nothing short of electrifying, something he yearned for and finally gets to wallow in. He presses Jisoo back, lifting his behind to sit on the desk after sweeping it clean, knocking assortments of papers, folders, and an empty coffee cup onto the floor.

Jisoo barely has a second to look behind in surprise before Jihoon’s attacking his exposed neck and collar and chest with bites and kisses, marking red hickeys over the tan skin. “Do you actually know how beautiful you are?” Jihoon mutters, his hands tugging down Jisoo’s jeans as the latter wraps his arms around his shoulders with a gentle whine.

“Talk dirty to me,” Jisoo says, feeling Jihoon’s hard on press against his thigh his legs are pulled around his waist.

“Yeah, baby?” Jihoon bites hard on Jisoo’s shoulder, leaving obvious teeth marks penetrating the skin before his tongue laps over the indents and he peppers kisses up to his ear. His hands massage over Jisoo’s skin, sighing, “I wish I could control myself better when I’m around you… But when I see you I really just can’t help myself.”

Amidst the hectic cluster in his head, Jisoo rolls his neck back and moans, concentrating solely on the feeling of Jihoon’s lips brushing over his skin, and the feeling of his hand that clasps around his dick. “Hm…” he whispers sliding his hands from Jihoon’s shoulders to holding his tie, pulling him in, “Help yourself with what?” He holds his hands out, wrists together like an offering, biting his lip and feeling the sudden jolt of anticipation through his body.

Jihoon looks down at him and smirks, undoing his tie promptly and wrapping it around Jisoo’s wrists, tying it tightly and telling him to turn around.

Jisoo lies over the desk like Jihoon guides him, the cold surface making him hiss as the latter leans over and fishes through the top draw, coming back with an almost full bottle of lubricant.

“You know,” Jihoon begins, trailing kisses down Jisoo’s spine, “I pride myself on my self-control, but when I see you walking into work every morning - with your low cut shirts and–” He smacks Jisoo’s ass suddenly, the sting causing Jisoo to grunt and jerk. “–those tight ass pants that show you off, all I want to do is rip your clothes right from your body and fuck you hard and good in front of everyone.” With two lubed fingers and a mess of gasps, moans, and grunts coming from Jisoo, Jihoon rubs the slicked digits to Jisoo's entrance, working them in.

Jisoo tries to keep his moans quiet as the need to toss his head back and scream grows exponentially, crawling through his gut almost ready to explode.

“I want everyone to hear you,” Jihoon mutters, grinding his hips against Jisoo behind as he works two, three fingers into him. Jisoo lets out a loud whimper as Jihoon continues, “I want everyone to know how a good slut like you gets fucked.” He bites at his skin, going over the marks with his kisses. “How my good slut gets fucked.”

Jisoo clenches around Jihoon and groans, his arms strung above his head wriggling in their binds.

“I want everyone to know you’re mine,” Jihoon continues, turning Jisoo’s body over so he lies with his back over the desk, his legs hooked around Jihoon’s waist. “Leave pretty marks all over your pretty body so everyone can see you’re a slut that likes to be owned.”

Jisoo picks his head up and moans at the way Jihoon runs his mouth– over his skin and with his words, like talking filthy is his mantra. He mewls pathetically, “Please,” as Jihoon sinks his teeth into his thigh once, twice…

“The question is, however, do I mark you everywhere for people to see...” He bites firmly on the junction between Jisoo’s neck and shoulder, a sure place for everyone to notice in Jisoo’s light blue shirt that he threw on today. “... or do I mark you in places I know only I will see?” He moves his lips down Jisoo’s hot skin and bites at his hip, harder than the rest of his assaults and making Jisoo squirm.

“Looks like you’ve done plenty of both,” he pants, chewing his lip as Jihoon chuckles against his skin.

“Oh, I don’t know… Are you sure you’re mine?” Jihoon jerks his hand, fingers sinking in him, free hand grasping around Jisoo’s leaking cock as the latter wriggles and lets out a loud gasp.

“Yes, I am.” He looks Jihoon in the eye, feeling his being melt under the searing gaze. Every inch of his body stings and longs for Jihoon to wreck it; every tug of his wrist feels like a smack of electricity riling up his body. He whines, “Jihoon… please, yes, I’m yours… Fuck me like I am.”

Jihoon drags his fingers in and out of Jisoo, pulling a long groan from him. “Okay, okay, princess,” he chuckles, leaning into the draw again and presenting a pack of condoms. “I know sluts like you can’t wait but have a little patience, baby boy.”

“I can’t,” Jisoo sighs, bringing his arms down to wrap around Jihoon’s neck. He whispers, “I just keep thinking about your cock and get way too excite–agh!”

With another considerable slather of lube, Jihoon presses himself deep into Jisoo, gripping his hips like they were a lifeline. Jisoo barely has to beg him for it faster, for Jihoon’s already snapping his lips into him like a needy, deprived, wanton demon that’s taken over his body. Jisoo can only grip onto the desk edge above him, head thrown back with loud, husked moans streaming past his lips. “Hnng, Jihoon!” he cries, “fuck, fuck!”

This was an edge-tipper for Jisoo– it’d been mere days since Jihoon had last touched him like this, but to him it had felt like years. Spending a weekend thinking about someone really does things to your head and body. He clamps his around Jihoon’s waist, whining and arching his back as Jihoon strokes his length, contradiction to the way he roughly collides their hips together.

“Fuck...” Jisoo brings his arms down, hiding his face in his the crook of his elbow. He wants to hold the feeling of pleasure plummeting towards him down; ignore the feeling of precum leaking from his helplessly, but the more Jihoon thrusts into him, the more he feels every sense in his body ramp higher and higher until they all explode, Jisoo whimpering, “Jihoon… hmm, fuck, Jihoon!” 

He tries to cling to the last few strings, knuckles turning white as the grasp the glass above him. Maybe it’s the excitement of everything that Jihoon is, or maybe it’s that it’s gradually dawned on him as Jihoon leans over and snaps his hip quicker and at an alternate angle that he’s been bringing the roof down with his noises that probably the entire floor has heard them. He covers his mouth feebly, Jihoon slowing his hips and giving him a quizzical look as Jisoo mutters, “I’m so loud.” with Jihoon’s lips curling into a laugh.

“And?” He say. He slows to a gentle thrum of pleasure up Jisoo’s body. “If you want me to know you’re mine, why not everyone else?” He thrusts once quick, and Jisoo feels the dull stretch with a grunt.

Jihoon takes Jisoo’s hands and moves them from his mouth, kissing them before swinging them back over his head. “I want everyone in this city to know you’re mine, baby.”

Jisoo groans and drops his head back, Jihoon lapsing back into his quick succession of thrusts as Jisoo’s body goes back to being tense, clenching, trying to keep it in as his moans grow into whines. He feels it again and again, Jihoon hitting his prostate hard over and over. 

“Ji…” he gasps. “Fuck, gonna come, I’m—”

Jihoon’s lithe body sends shock waves after shock wave into Jisoo’s, release rocketing up and down, up and down before it surges with another jerk of his cock and thrust deep into him. Jisoo releases with a loud moan, hips lifting from the desk as Jihoon buries himself in, feeling Jisoo’s body react around him.

He kisses down Jisoo’s neck, rolling his hips gently as Jisoo’s trembling body heaves in his arms. “That’s my baby,” he whispers, and Jisoo wraps his arms around Jihoon’s shoulders.

As he pants, Jihoon stands straight again, pulling from Jihoon with a groan. “Tell me again,” he says, breathily, “tell me whose you are…”

Though his shoulders are stiff from the cold surface he lies upon, Jisoo sits up and wraps his arms around Jihoon’s neck, making sure his lips brush over the latter’s red-tipped ear before he whispers, “Yours, Jihoon. Every inch of my body belongs to you.” He isn’t sure how the words flow so easily from his lips but follows the trail they set anyway. 

Jihoon reaches between them and pulls the contraception from his length. He jerks himself, bringing Jisoo’s lips to his and kissing him, humming as his hand speeds up.

“You’re the only one who I want to touch me and ruin me like this.” Jisoo makes a point of moaning quietly even though he’s still coming down from his own orgasm. “You’re the only one who treats me so good, and I want you to come thinking about all the ways you’re gonna turn my body into your personal fuck toy.”

Jihoon groans and brings Jisoo in for a searing kiss, messily kissing his breath away as he jerks faster and harder, moaning into Jisoo’s mouth until he finally does, grunting as he paints the pair white. His lips collide with Jisoo’s jaw, his cheek, until his worn out head drops on Jisoo’s shoulder, chest heaving heavily as the latter runs his hands over still clothed back. “Fuck,” Jihoon chokes, taking a deep inhale in and picking his eyes up to meet Jisoo’s, “fuck, I’ll never get over what you do to me…”

Smiling bright, Jisoo holds Jihoon’s chin and kisses him once more, softly and gently, so their mouths moved together to a rhythm with no beat.

“Just to check,” Jihoon whispers as he pulls away, “this means we’re dating right?”

Laughing, Jisoo nods and grins, pulling Jihoon in again to wrap him in his arms. He looks around at the mess on the floor that Jihoon carelessly ripped from his desk, and spots the disregarded coffee mug. Suddenly it hits him, and he gasps, looking at Jihoon. “Your coffee!”

“What?”

Jisoo groans and hits his head on Jihoon’s shoulder. “I knew I was forgetting something this morning, I’d forgotten to get your coffee after getting on the train.” He sighs, as Jihoon strokes his sweat-slicked fringe out the way. “God, I’m the worst assistant-boyfriend in the world.”

Jihoon laughs heartily, bringing his face close to Jisoo’s to whisper. “That’s okay, as long as you’re my bad assistant-boyfriend, I’m set.” He leans in, no space left between the two as they seal that statement with another kiss.


	9. IX

**OCTOBER**

 

To say the least, Jisoo’s been pleasantly surprised thus far. 

Not that he was expecting being the boyfriend to a multi-billionaire CEO would be bad. Of course he knew a man so extravagant in nature would certainly have skills in the courtship department (nearly as sleek as his skills in the bedroom –  _ nearly _ ). It’s just, in retrospect of it really being an off-hand, typically non-conventional relationship, Jisoo never expected it to be this normal. Sure, there have been moments in the past month-and-a-bit where he’s found himself royally whisked off his feet by Jihoon’s whimsical outbursts of romance, but other than that, things for them have been rather tame, slow and casual.

They have their dates: usually a restaurant - they’ve discovered they both share a very similar interest in tasting everything they can, and Jisoo even stumbled across the fact that Jihoon can inhale multiple bowls of side dish and not gain a single pound. Sometimes it’s movie - wherein Jisoo has dragged Jihoon to see the new scary thriller or a viewing of an over-the-top gory slasher classic, mostly comprising of the latter insisting, “I’m not scared.” and ending up in Jisoo’s arms by the end of it. On the occasion, they take a stroll through the park - often late at night, after work, where they can softly talk and watch the browning leaves flutter down from the trees and not be pressured by the morning rush or the midday hassle.

On the outside, they probably appear like your average couple; two men dressed in corporate suits while drenched in tender doting. But how normal can they really be? With their sneaked kisses after Jisoo briefs Jihoon, or their helpless, hushed touching bundled in the corner of the elevator, when Jihoon just really could not wait.

And not to mention, their risque, inordinate sex life, where they seem to fall into the latter category between being normal and not-so-normal. Some nights, sure, in desperate times comes the need of a simple, quick fuck, but most times, they find themselves draped head to toe in a mode of extreme kittenishness, playing out these droll scenes to heed their needs.

In other words, when they want to be, the two can be downright kinky little shits.

But that, oddly, in itself is where Jisoo feels there’s a problem. Not with the sex, not at all - Jisoo’s certain he’s struck gold in having an intense sex God literally at his fingertips - but more so with how they fornicate. Jisoo finds that, together, they’re both explosive sex bombs, but in every grenade, there’s an astounding amount of technical aspect and, although never unsatisfied, Jisoo knows that their liaison is certainly rather hectic.

“I just, you know…” Jisoo stands behind Jihoon at the kitchen island, clearing away the dishes from their home-cooked meal (Jisoo’s home cooked meal - they had plans to do it together but after Jisoo unfolded that Jihoon has very little relationship with a stove, he took over). He kisses his clothed shoulder, wrapping his arms around Jihoon’s waist before he continues, “... wanna make sure we both know we’re getting what we want.”

With an airy chuckle escaping his lips, Jihoon asks, “Do you now?”

Jisoo can hear the smirk in his voice and smiles back, taking the empty pan and dropping it in the sink behind him. “Yeah,” he says, “like… I’m sure there are things we’re missing.”

“You’re not satisfied?”

“No, no, no, God no. You know I’m satisfied baby.” Jisoo chuckles. “But I just want us to be one hundred percent sure we’ve got it… sorted. Get down to the nitty-gritty, and all that.” After clearing the top, Jisoo jumps up and sits on the island, legs dangling as Jihoon comes to rest his arms on his knees, redolent smile on his face.

“Nitty-gritty…” Jihoon repeats, “I wonder what that entails.” He dodges as Jisoo goes to pinch his cheek and laughs. “Alright, what did you have in mind?”

Of course, Jisoo knows exactly what he has in mind, but now the time to list them has arrived, he feels a wave of timidness wash over him, painting his cheeks pink as he rolls his lips together and hums. “Well…” he drapes his arms over Jihoon’s shoulders, the latter coming barely to his chest now the taller’s elevated, but he looks down lovingly nonetheless. “Well, you’re definitely more dominant, right?”

“Would you say that?”

Jisoo snorts. “You’re hardly a sub.”

“You never know.” Jihoon smirks, “I could be a switch.”

“You? Submit?” Jisoo strokes Jihoon’s chin, who keels up into the touch. “With that ego?”

“Back to the point, babe.”

“Since you are more dominant and I’m more submissive…” Jisoo bites his lip and tries to think how he can phrase  _ I want you to own me as your own personal sex sub that you also love lots and cuddle on the occasion _ into normal, coherent words. “We could, like… make that a thing?”

Jihoon quirks an eyebrow and smirks in amusement. “I don’t think I follow.”

Slumping his shoulders, Jisoo sighs. “It’s hard to explain, but I was thinking, maybe, since you know I’m into, like, spanking and pain, and you’re into giving all that, why don’t we kind of set up something? Like a set of rules or anything along those lines. Make me more than your boyfriend, I mean… like, your…” He stops, realizing he has no other words coming to his mind other than ‘slave’, which he wouldn’t necessarily hold an objection to being called, but thinks saying it aloud sounds a little too morbid too soon. At the idea of it - the thought of being told to keep in line, being cautious at the expense of his dignity, at being somewhat disciplined by Jihoon - Jisoo’s body rises in temperature. He fumbles with his fingers, fiddling with Jihoon’s collar as the latter looks up.

“So… basically a dom-slash-sub relationship?”

Jisoo nods. “Like, you know Fifty Shades?”

“That quite abusive novel about a creepy guy stalking this girl that also manages to mistreat the entire idea of BDSM?”

“Yeah, that one. Something like that, except, of course, without the abuse and the creepy stalking and whatnot.” Jisoo chews his lip again, finding the way that Jihoon stares up at him to be rather distracting. “And we don’t have to always enforce these rules as well, only when… like, the feelings right?” (Jihoon laughs.) “You know when I mean - like, maybe we could use a codeword that one of us says, then the other replies with another word that lets them know if we’re starting the… scene, basically.”

Jihoon stands uprights and steps between Jisoo’s legs, being able to circle his arms down by his lower back. “Hm, now that does sound nice…” He wets his lips and brings them close to Jisoo’s. “I’ve always liked it when you’re obedient.”

Jisoo takes a sharp inhale in and tries to hold the whimper down as the sudden rush of blood that roars to his crotch. “Ever done anything like that before?”

Jihoon falters for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Something like it…”

Jisoo does his best to ignore the sudden clench in his gut and distract himself with the way Jihoon’s hot eyes rear up and down his body.  _ He’s thirty-one, Jisoo, _ he says to himself, _ of course, he’s branched out in sex before. _

“As for the rules?” Jihoon continues. Jisoo sits, tapping his chin, taking no notice of the way the skin on the back his neck heats and his ear-tips start to turn pink.

Like, you know… talking back, flirting, that kind of stuff…”

The buzz of the flat screen, playing some immaterial game show, the hum of the oven, cooling after cooking for them, the howl of the wind that whips around tall building - they all tune out and fade into insecurity as Jihoon’s delicate hands start to massage up and down Jisoo’s thighs, still clad in his tight work pants, almost as if it were a soothing gesture. Jisoo chews his lips, sure they should be torn to shreds by now, as Jihoon stands on his toes to reach his lips to his ear and purrs, “And what would happen if you were to break these rules while they’re being enforced?”

His voice drips with certain provocativeness, lips moving slinkily as they brush over the shell of Jisoo’s ear, shivers soaring down the latter’s spine while his hands consciously move to slip between his legs. He lets out a gentle whine, quiet, as he thinks about how he should answer.

Jihoon does for him, chuckling, “Maybe… punishment?”

Jisoo’s knees come to rub together as the word sinks into his sense. He wants to throw his head back and scream,  _ “God, yes punish me Jihoon!” _ but uses all his willpower to hold it in and just nod pathetically.

“Yeah?” Jihoon’s lips curl seductively. “Of course you’d like that… What do you want, huh? I have a feeling you’ll get a bit bored if I just spank you all the time.” He bites Jisoo’s lip for him, humming, “However pretty your cute ass looks all red and stinging.”

(Naturally, Jisoo would never get bored, but he gets what Jihoon means.)

Swallowing thickly, Jisoo runs his hands down Jihoon’s chest, the tension between the two heavy, anticipation clouding their way. “Depends on what you have to use on me.” He’s sure he can feel his heart hammer in excitement; feel the blood pulsating through his fingers that aimlessly play with Jihoon’s loosened tie.

“Do you want to see?”

Jisoo pauses, looking at Jihoon. “See?”

Jihoon rolls his lips together. “What I have.”

Jisoo’s heart has never dropped so fast.

The south-west bedroom on the second floor is locked until Jihoon opens it. The penthouse is so big, Jisoo hasn’t been in half of it.

Jisoo’s hands are jittery and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s excited, turned on, nervous or scared. Jihoon had led him from the kitchen, up one flight of stairs to this room that’s dark inside apart from the usual glisten of city lights. He takes Jisoo in by the hand. It’s smaller, probably not the smallest in the house, but half the size of the master bedroom at least. There’s a bed in the middle, with a Queen sized mattress, four posters and a cover at the top. The east side of the room stands a plain wall while the north side gives an entrance to a walk-in closet.

Jihoon points to the closed door and motions Jisoo closer. “In there. That’s all I have.”

By this point, Jisoo’s mind is flooding with explanations, though deep down, he hopes one certain option is the answer. “I’m not quite keen on you being this mysterious,” he says comically, folding his arms and pulling his warm cardigan closer around him. It was like the atmosphere, Jihoon’s secretive demeanor is giving him chills and he can’t tell if it's from fear or getting turned on. He reaches for the handle, stopping before smiling at Jihoon. “I’m not gonna find your secret collection of… like, human skins or anything weird, right?”

“Jisoo.”

“Yeah?”

“Open the goddamn door.”

“Isn’t that a Panic! at the Disco song?”

_ “Josh.” _

Jisoo grips the gold handle and shoves the door open, the dramatic effect a cover-up for the fact he’s shaking where he stands.

The light inside the closet turns on automatically; it’s rather small, a simple walkway a maybe ten feet long, but it’s not the size of the room that takes Jisoo’s breath away. The walls are lined either side with what looks like showcases, inside them being a vast assortment of striking BDSM tools and equipment.

“Oh, my…” Jisoo barely finishes the sentence as he lets his feet carry him through the door and down the walkway. He looks back at Jihoon and grins before taking his time, examining each and every toy that’s hung up. “God.”

Closest to the door on the left are the rather timid tools: three blindfolds - all different in color and texture, sitting on a shelf. Next to it a red ball-gag attached to a black, leather strap. Jisoo reaches out to touch it, never having felt one that’s not in his dreams. He essentially has just walked into his idea of kinky heaven.

“I haven’t used this stuff in a long, long time,” Jihoon admits, following sheepishly behind Jisoo, peering over his shoulder. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s even ever been used.”

Before even following Jihoon’s finger, Jisoo turns to look at his boyfriend, asking straight, “How many people have used this stuff?” and surprising himself with his own confident tone.

Jihoon chews his lip and looks down at his feet– it’s almost as if the two have totally switched personas in the few minutes they’ve been in the room. “Only one.”

Like the number was some sort of consolidation Jisoo nods and smiles softly, not wanting Jihoon to think of him as some sort of jealous, psychopathic lover, determined to strip Jihoon from the history of any man other than himself. He finally looks at what Jihoon was pointing to and feels his face evolve into a wide grin. “Hm,” he says, “I’ve heard spreader bars are quite an exquisite taste.”

Jihoon grins back at him as Jisoo’s fingers go dancing over the golden colored bar, extended to its fullest and almost reaching the floor with its length. He imagines his own legs being roughly reared apart by such an appliance and has to tug at the hem of his untucked shirt to satisfy the jitteriness in his fingers.

Hanging next, on a hook nailed into the wall, is a selection of restraints: two pairs of leather cuffs (one black, one brown) - each with small golden clasps that hook together or to something else; a set of silver, police-like handcuffs; as well as an array of coloured, silky ribbon and three sets of red, rough rope. Last, there sits a long strip of silver chain, that hangs from the top of the showcase to the bottom.

Jisoo folds his arms and quirks a brow at Jihoon. “You mean to tell me that, all this time, I’ve been using your tie as bondage when you have specially designed ribbon in here?”

“Well… I didn’t know when to spring this on you.” Jihoon fiddles with his fingers, uncharacteristic timidness taking hold of his stature. “It’s hardly normal.”

Jisoo catches himself thinking if he would've been nervous the first time he showed someone this? Did they use ribbon, or did they prefer rope? He hates feeling jealous; it leaves him like a cold wave of the ocean has washed over him, with a bitter taste in his mouth and an uneasy tummy from swallowing it.

“Then again, are we really normal?”

Jihoon looks fondly at Jisoo before switching his gaze behind him, smile glistening, “Maybe you’ll like this stuff.” He holds Jisoo’s elbow and guides him around to the bottom end of the right side, Jisoo chewing his lips as the blood rushes to his face again.

In a long line leading back down to the door, Jihoon’s variety of pain toys hang proud yet collecting dust. In order as Jisoo walks: around four paddles - one black and thin, one black and studded, another brown and heavy, a fourth oval with cutouts; two leather straps with handles; three or four floggers, differing amounts of red tassels on each; two different lengthed riding crops;  a single long, meter ruler stick; a thin, devilish-looking cane; two small yet fierce looking leather tawses and finally a heavy, daunting, large whip, stunning looking with embroidered patterns on the handle– it’s clear that this tool was the cream of the crop.

Swallowing, Jisoo’s hands consciously reach to hold his own behind, thinking of how much each weapon would sting and hurt his fragile body (the mere thought alone sends shivers dancing over his already sensitive skin).

“They’re in order of how much they’d hurt,” Jihoon says after a prolonged silence from Jisoo, too busy admiring the selection.

Jisoo hums, “I always thought paddles hurt a lot, but since they’re at the start of the line…”

“They’re about an eight.” Jihoon laughs after earning a shocked expression from Jisoo. He follows the latter’s finger as he points to every toy in the row. “Strap - six, paddle - eight, flogger - nine–” (Jisoo’s face makes him giggle.) “–crop -  hmm… nine, cane - ten, tawse… ten-point-five, whip–” (Jisoo shivers.) “–eleven.”

Muttering quiet curses to himself, Jisoo shakes his head in disbelief, reaching forward to let his fingers tango through the tassels of the flogger.

“Have you used any of these before?”

Jisoo shakes his head. “I mean, in my dreams, yeah. But no, not at the hands of someone else.”

“How do you know about most of it, then?”

“The internet’s a thing, Jihoon, a wonderful thing.” Jisoo takes another good, long look at the contents of the closet before giving a sultry smile. “But I’ve always really wanted to…” He reaches into the case and grasps the riding crop on a delicate grip.

Jihoon shifts on his feet and wets his lips, eyes scanning Jisoo intently before asking, “See something you like?”

Jisoo spins on his heels, facing Jihoon with his teeth gnawing at his lips and the head of the crop between his fingers. He twangs the leather strap and smiles. “Very much so.” He hopes the way he lands the top of the tool on his palm is a clear emphasis on the loud,  _ use this, use this, use this  _ echoing around his head. He taps once, twice more, looking somewhat like a mildly seductive gang member with a baseball bat, and watches as Jihoon’s hand comes to adjust the front of his tight slacks.

“You want to try it?”

Jisoo nods heavily.

“You haven’t broken a rule.”

“Well, when we do set up rules, I hope you know I have an obligation to break them." Jisoo takes the crop and extends it, feeling it heavy in his hands as he runs it down Jihoon's chest. He smiles as the latter flinches and breathes out heavily as the head of it rubs over his crotch tauntingly, Jisoo’s slow movements utter torture on his bulge.

Taking a sharp breath in, Jihoon replies, “That would be very naughty of you, baby boy.” Though sounding uneasy, his inhales ragged and exhaled loud, Jisoo swears he can hear Jihoon’s heart skipping in his chest, and offers a Cheshire cat grin, pressing harder against Jihoon’s tightening pants. He slowly walks around him, circling him like a curious feline in the face of a new playmate, and leans in close to Jihoon’s ear, adrenaline spiking his ambition.

“That’s the point,” Jisoo coos, nibbling on the shell of Jihoon’s lug and sighing. “I love the way you treat me when I’ve been a bad boy.”

Something in Jihoon snaps, like a sudden slap to wake him up from his lust drenched daydream. He snatches up the crop in Jisoo’s hand, swinging it above both of their heads while still in the latter’s grip. Jisoo’s breath gets caught in his throat, suddenly being shoved back against the division in the case with his wrists pinned by the bar of the riding crop. He bites his lip, only to have Jihoon lean in and take the plump lower rim in the stinging grip of his own teeth, harder than before and actually biting down, blood most likely seeping out.

“Well, well, well.” He chuckles. “If kitten wants to act like a bad boy, kitten will be treated like a bad boy.”

As Jihoon roughly kisses him, Jisoo lets out a helpless whimper, like his senses are being clouded by smoke from the fire burning between them. A hand is shoved between his legs, knees weak as Jihoon palms him with his free asset until he’s aching against his pants. Jihoon’s tonguing is reverently making itself at home next to his own, hot pants slipping past their lips as they share breaths and steal them away, making Jisoo feel like every other pair of lips he’s tasted in his life seem wrong.

“Jihoon,” he calls. “Jihoon, I’m so hard.”

“I can feel that–.” The smile Jihoon wears makes Jisoo want to punch it off yet kiss it off all the same. He goes to undo Jisoo’s belt before hesitating, quickly spinning him around, wrists still pinned by the crop, and landing his hand hard on Jisoo’s clothed ass, giving the latter nothing more than a hard jolt. “Hm,” he uses that same hand to squeeze and grope Jisoo’s prominent and firm behind. “You’ve been going to the gym,” he says, “your ass feels so nice and thick. I bet if I spank it, the skin would ripple and bounce, right?”

Jisoo mewls and peeks over his shoulder, blushing profusely as he stutters, “You have all those lovely cuffs and you use this?” cheekily, feeling bothered and hot at the way Jihoon’s lips curl into a seductive yet sadistic smile.

Stepping back and landing a blunt hand again, Jihoon nods his head towards the closet door. “Get your ass on the bed,” he demands, this time pinching the skin of his butt before watching Jisoo scurry to the bedroom as he reaches for the pair of silver handcuffs.

Jisoo fingers scrabble to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, getting half of them open before his chin is jarred up and he’s looking right into Jihoon’s oddly erotic, lustful eyes.

“Patience, kitten,” he says (Jisoo thinks he’s maybe fond of the new name), “I want to undress you myself, take your clothes off nice and slow…” His fingers trace from Jisoo’s ear to his jaw, scaling down his neck and over the valley of his chest, “make sure you know your pretty body is in good hands before I mark you up and spank your ass so much it’s bleeding and you’re weeping.”

Jisoo can only gasp and groan as Jihoon shoves him roughly back into the pillows of the Queen bed. On his back he can see the top of the four posters -- rather than an expensive design of fabric like he was expecting, Jisoo is met with a gold-plated, fence looking contraption as the ceiling, chuckling even as Jihoon sits on his hips and starts to kiss his neck. “What’s that for?” he questions, pointing up but moaning as a hickey is bitten just over his collarbone (to a background of fading ones, like a new addition to the gallery).

“That,” Jihoon begins, without even looking up, “is so I can tie your arms up to keep you still and open for me.” He feels the shudder that runs through Jisoo’s body having made him thought of the image where he’s tied up and suspended at Jihoon’s bidding, and grins as he grinds his hips down hard. “Imagine that - your body strung up and covered in sweat… I’m thinking of having you blindfolded and naked, all vulnerable and unsuspecting as I assault that ass with whatever I please…”

Jisoo sighs, losing all will to hold himself in composure, as Jihoon shuffles down his body, lips dragging over his sensitive nipples, pert to attention, where he wriggles and bites his lip. He stays true to his word, being excruciatingly slow in his undress of Jisoo where he opens one button every one minute, paying ample heed to each and every inch of Jisoo’s skin. Jisoo almost goes mad from it, his cock painfully straining against his slacks that Jihoon refuses to touch. He opens his mouth, ready to utter some protest before he’s interrupted by a buzz in his back pocket.

Groaning and wishing Jihoon - who had paused his mouth momentarily - would just hurry up, Jisoo mutters, “Phone.” as he reaches into his pocket to fish out his mobile, sliding the accept call to Jihoon playfully rolling his eyes.

“Hello?” Jisoo clears his throat as Jihoon resumes, fiddling with the button on the former’s pants as he undoes the zip with his teeth.

“Jisoo?”

Now, anyone can tell that Jisoo loves Jeonghan with his entire heart, but his best friend does seem to have the habit of calling at very inappropriate moments.

“Hannie,” Jisoo sighs, slipping a hand over his mouth as Jihoon finally tugs down his pants. “Listen, Jihoon and I are, uh… in the middle of something.” It’s certainly something as Jihoon spies Jisoo’s hard on in his underwear. He starts to lap his tongue over the leaking head of his cock, tasting the bitter stain but moaning softly like it’s the most delicious candy.

As he lets the overwhelming fizz flood his body, Jisoo thinks of how much he would love to sit and watch for hours as Jihoon samples him, enjoy him entirely like he was his favorite ice cream sundae. But with Jeonghan’s gentle, periodic breathing echoing around his ear, he finds the line of focus to be blurring and fading. “I’ll call you back–”

“Can you come home?”

Jisoo hears a sniff on the other end of the line, and a deep exhale like Jeonghan was trying to handle his breathing. His body stiffens, voice drowning in worry as he stammers, “Wh-what's up?”

Jihoon halts at the sudden shift in Jisoo’s tone, chin resting on his navel as the croaky reply comes from the handheld. Jisoo listens carefully. “Just please…” A shaky inhale. “I need you here.”

The line falls dead and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Jisoo’s best friend was distraught on the phone. The arousal that he felt suddenly is dispelled with a sickening wash of worry and confusion, ultimately killing his hard-on as he looks at his mobile troublingly in his hand.

“Is everything alright?” Jihoon asks. Jisoo makes eye contact and the former sees its easy to decipher the panic crawling its way into Jisoo’s face. He sits on his knees, the riding crop disregarded by the side of the bed and the handcuffs hanging forgotten on his hip.

“I… don’t know.” Jisoo follows him, sitting up against the pillows and tucking his phone back into his pocket. He looks apologetically at Jihoon and sighs, “I think I need to check up on him.” Hooking his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, Jisoo kisses him passionately, in contradiction to saying he needs to go. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Jihoon replies, holding Jisoo’s hips as he lets the latter control in their kiss. If anything, he sits surprised and stunned. Their tongues massage together, needy, wet sounds escaping Jisoo, honestly sounding so much like a sub, but the way his arms are trapping Jihoon so tight as he pulls back, it screams this sort of hidden dominance that he can’t help but feel so scared yet so turned on by.

“You should think of some rules while I’m gone.” Although riddled with troubles, Jisoo gives a very believable show of acting erotic. In earnest, Jihoon grins, wishing he could string out this session of back and forth ragging, but reluctantly lets Jisoo wriggle off the bed, redo his pants and lean down to give him one last, searing kiss. “Keep that crop warm for me.”

In the last few minutes, Jihoon’s been on a total roller coaster: the few seconds standing in the closet, he felt himself slip into this sudden trance at the hands of his lover, only to forcibly throw himself back into an aware, conscious dominance. That kiss - that desperate, long, heated kiss - felt so good on his lips it was almost like he was indulging in some form of heaven on a plate – it made him feel weak and vulnerable at the hands of a man; a way he knows he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

Jihoon flushes as Jisoo walks away with a boisterous wink thrown over his shoulder, sending Jihoon back into this mental frenzy of flirtatious regime. In theory, Jihoon should be worried about the wellbeing of Jisoo’s best friend, considering how much his boyfriend considers the man as family. However, he can’t stop thinking of that sudden outburst of, not only his but also Jisoo’s shift in character. He sits, listening for the distinct ding of the private elevator sinking down to the parking lot, before he flops back onto the bed, staring up at the suspension grate but only seeing hundreds upon thousands of suddenly woken memories.

 


	10. X

“Jeonghan?”

The door slams behind Jisoo with a loud, protruding bang, almost mimicking that of the pounding in his chest. He unwraps his scarf from his neck and hangs it along with his coat, again calling his best friend’s name. Jisoo’s fear had spiked from one to one hundred after trying to call Jeonghan while on the train, only to be met with his voicemail all of the six times. His voice is shaky as it carries around their small apartment, reaching Jeonghan’s ears who replies with a muffled: “Kitchen.”

His words sound sore, like his throat ruined from usage. He sits at the island as Jisoo enters, head in his hands with a cluster of tissues and a few empty bottles littered around him.

Rushing immediately to his side, Jisoo wraps his arms around Jeonghan’s shoulders, who suddenly breaks out into desperate sobs with his face buried in Jisoo’s chest. “Hey, hey, shush…” Jisoo rubs his back, shushing softly as he feels Jeonghan’s tears soak his shirt. He looks around, seeing the aftermath of what seems to be a heated fight: smashed crockery, spilt drinks, a broken and crying Yoon Jeonghan – Jeonghan never usually cries after fighting, just gets angry and drunk, then passes out on Jisoo’s lap. But looking at the evidence, Jisoo hopes for the best yet while expecting the worst.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, stroking his hand through Jeonghan’s hair. He bites his lip, saying, “Where’s Mingyu? I thought he was coming over.” feeling that would be an easy yet painful way to ease into the conclusion.

Pulling back with one long breath in, Jeonghan wipes the tear streaks from his cheeks. Jisoo’s never seen him so bad: his eyes are swollen and bright red, eyelashes wet and tipping endless tears over their rims. His nose is irritated and his face is flushed, prominent veins popping from his forehead as he brushes his long locks back. Jisoo thinks the only time Jeonghan’s ever cried this much was during  _ Brokeback Mountain _ and knows whatever happened must’ve been serious.

“The prick dumped me.”

The words rock Jisoo to his core, standing stunned with his mouth ajar and eyes blown. “He what?”

Jeonghan scoffs as Jisoo drops into the stool next to him, hands still stroking his shoulders. “I told the bastard I loved him and he told me he’s been banging his best friend for the last four months.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Does it look like I am?” Jeonghan chokes pathetically and drops his head into his hands. “Fuck, I told him I loved him, Jisoo,” he repeats. “I’ve only ever told that to you and my grandmother.”

Jisoo is at a sudden loss for words - it was something he really did not see coming. Just the day before the pair were curled up on the couch, cuddling like two curious teenagers totally new to the concept. They were wrapped up in their own lovesick world and, although Jisoo expected they’d fight again soon, they’d set a record for having gone so long without cursing one another out. It goes to show how solid and secure everything can be one second, only to have it crumble to catastrophe the next.

“I really don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, you and me both, buddy.” Jeonghan snatches up another tissue from the box and wipes his running nose. “After I said it, he spewed some bullshit about not wanting to hurt me anymore… Remember the guy I told you about? Wonwoo? The one who just passed his bar exam?”

Jisoo nods.

“That’s him. He told me he was just ‘looking for something different now’ and how he ‘wanted space but didn’t know how to ask it for it’ I mean, what a load of crap is that?!” Jeonghan takes the beer bottle closest to him and downs the remains, grunting. “Why didn’t he, you know, fucking talk to me? No, why would he do that? It’s not like we’re human adults who can communicate or anything.” He shakes his head and uses his sleeve to dry his eyes. “Of course he’d love to shack up with some soon-to-be lawyer rather than me. God, I’m such a worthless idiot.”

“Hey, shut up with that.” Jisoo, who had mainly been listening intently with his hand rubbing Jeonghan’s back, suddenly snaps his head up. “You’re not a worthless idiot, okay? You’re a badass engineer who I love dearly and doesn’t deserve to be walked on by someone like Kim Mingyu.” 

If anything, Jisoo’s mostly conflicted by the situation: of course he loves Jeonghan and will stand by him through everything. But he also  _ liked _ Mingyu - like, really enjoyed his company, and saw him as a good guy for Jeonghan. The idea he had of them going far (somewhere along the marriage route of far) has so suddenly been ripped from Jeonghan that he has no idea how to really feel. It’s like finding out your favourite singer is really an asshole or something. “You’re Yoon Jeonghan!” Jisoo exclaims. “You don’t need a man– no, a boy to make you feel worthy.”

Speaking so frankly, Jisoo feels mean and dirty, but the need to support his best friend is stronger than any moral upholding he has.

Pouting helplessly, Jeonghan starts to fiddle with the tissue in his hand. “Whatever, I’ll get over it, I guess. Sooner or later.”

Jisoo gives his best friend a soft smile, reaching up to gently touch his cheek. “Is that going to be after a few nights of crying in my arms?”

Jeonghan pauses and looks his best friend dead in the eyes. Jisoo’s so used to seeing a strong, hot-headed, grown up man rather than this fragile, lost looking boy in front of him– it’s almost frightening. As friends, Jisoo and Jeonghan have always given the assurance that they will be there for one another, but in most cases, its always Jeonghan there for Jisoo; his literal rock in the bumpy road of life. Jisoo finds himself so suddenly thrust into position of support he hardly knows how to handle it, and resorts to what he knows how to do best. He pulls Jeonghan in as tears tumble from his eyes again, massaging his hands over his back as the latter says, “Laws of best friend-ism right?”

They sit like that, Jisoo hoping the beating of his own heart is enough to subdue the cracks lining Jeonghan’s. “So…” he says pulling back and biting back his own tears as he sees Jeonghan’s pale and shaken face. “do you want to trash his car?”

Of course, he’s joking but he wouldn’t be surprised if Jeonghan agreed.

“No.” Jeonghan wipes his face again. “I’m just going to get drunk tonight, make you call my work in the morning, get drunk tomorrow, get drunk for my birthday… Then for Sunday…” He knocks the bottle he finished into the bin and smiles, “and for the rest of the year, I’m sobering up.”

Jisoo quirks an eyebrow. “Really?”

Jeonghan nods, pulling his hair back and drying his cheeks one final time. “I’m done with being a dumb, drunken slut, Jisoo. I’m not going to cry over another man ever again.”

Jisoo smiles a wide, genuine grin and pulls Jeonghan in once more, placing a soft kiss on his cheek as he moves away. “That’s my boy.”

Snorting, Jeonghan shoves Jisoo’s shoulder. “Your boy? Who’s turning twenty-six on Saturday, huh?”

“God, you’re so old.”

“Not too old to beat you up, Jisoo.”

 

* 

 

Jisoo’s almost sleeping when his phone beside him buzzes. With Jeonghan’s head on his lap in a dozy, drunken daze, Jisoo checks first to assure his best friend is barely coherent before reaching over to read his message.

[171002]

**jihoon:** is everything okay?

Smiling, Jisoo stops the hand that cards through Jeonghan’s hair, using both to type.

**you:** all good. jeonghan had a pretty nasty fight with his bf  
**you:** well, ex-bf now

He sets his phone on his knee and waits, keeping an ear out to hear the soft, periodic breathing coming from his best friends, peeking again at his face to find it etched in peace and calm, riddled with slumber.

**jihoon:** im sorry to hear that  
**jihoon:** how is he?

**you:** passed out like baby

**jihoon:** wonderful, now i can start turning you on  
 **jihoon:** that came out a lot more dismissive than i intended  
 **jihoon:** i just mean to say i’ve had fun with my fleshlight but i wish i could have you instead

Jisoo swallows and blinks at his screen, breath getting caught in his throat as countless images - Jihoon’s handsome face, screwed in pleasure; both of their sweat covered bodies working in perfect unison - flash through his mind like his own personal pornography reel. Suddenly, Jeonghan’s head on his lap felt a lot more uncomfortable than it usually would.

 

**you:** now now, jihoon

He types, albeit with shaky hands.

**you:** where’s the fun in taking all the pleasure

He adds an emoji, one with a desperate face, and sends it after deleting the selection of droplets and tongue characters too, scared his inner fuckboy was appearing too strong.

**jihoon:** baby i will gladly tell you dirty things as you finger yourself  
**jihoon:** unless you’re tired and want to get some sleep before work tomorrow?

(Jihoon’s choice of emotion was the smug looking face and Jisoo feels the need to drop his phone and scream.)

Moving out from under his best friend, Jisoo drapes a blanket over Jeonghan’s now limp and snoring body, biting his lip as he promptly replies:

 

**you:** go to bed with a hard on? hardly likely

The reply pings back instantly.

**jihoon:** that’s my boy

Jisoo flushes as he closes the oak door to his room and flops back down on his bed with a stupid grin plastered on his face. He adjusts his sweats over his crotch and punches his text on the screen.

**you:** what was that about dirty things?

 

_ Incoming call from jihoon (@bossman) _

 

(Jisoo’s choice of username – he’s the only contact Jihoon has on the app.)

“Believe it or not, I missed the sound of your voice,” comes Jihoon over the phone.

Jisoo chuckles at him, replying quietly, “Believe it or not, I’m really desperate to feel your cock in me.” as his hand sneaks past the waistband of his pants and cups over the tent in his briefs.

“Jesus Christ, you sound sexy over the phone.”

“Yeah?” Jisoo chews at his bottom lip, a sigh washing over him as Jihoon hums, like if he closed his eyes he could feel his breath on his skin.

“Yeah… I can hear your breathing getting faster baby boy. You know you make these pretty little whimpering noises when you’re desperate?”

“I do?”

“You do.” Jihoon laughs quietly like his hand is cupped around the receiver on his phone and making his voice reverberate around Jisoo’s head. “God, it makes you sound so needy. Like only my cock’s going to satisfy you.”

Jisoo nods his head, even though Jihoon can’t see it. “It is.” He swallows, his hand now reaching to pull his member from its restraints. “You know I only want you.” Jisoo drops back onto the cushions, the relief of his hand grazing over his neglected dick after coming so close earlier. He moans quietly into his phone, cupping his palm tighter around himself as he teases, voice low and sultry. “I thought of a rule.”

“Oh?” Jihoon replies. “Go on.”

“How about not touching myself without your permission?”

Jihoon lets out a low laugh. “I’m sure you’re going to to have a lot of trouble with that.” It’s a jab, a low one, but doused in such erotic tempting, like the way strawberries get coated in chocolate fountains. It sends an army of shivers parading over Jisoo’s skin.

“Guess what I’m doing right now,” he says, shakily, and Jihoon begins to tut.

“Bad boy,” (Jisoo chokes.) “did Daddy say you could do that?” (And his entire world stutters on its axis.)

His hand halts and his breath gets lodged behind the lump of a pleasured scream, sitting, waiting in his throat. He needs a solid few seconds to let that sink in. No, he wasn’t expecting it. Yes, he wants to expect it again. But acting like a shocked little deer wouldn’t be a true reflection, would it? Jisoo knows there’ve been times where, with his face shoved in a pillow and his fingers knuckle deep inside him, he’s whispered that name to no ear other than that of the darkness. And there has probably been a tipsy time or two where the only word that comes to Jisoo’s mind is that one while trying to describe Jihoon’s entire sex appeal to Jeonghan (“He just… just looks so… Daddy, you know?”). 

But no, Jisoo hadn’t expected the word to slip from his own mouth without prior discussion, let alone Jihoon’s while coated in the crackle and snap of the phone line. And yes, Jisoo does really really want to hear it again.

Heeding Jisoo’s small silence, Jihoon splutters a struggling laugh. “That… kind of slipped out,” he says - Jisoo could envision his face: flushed, shocked,  _ cute _ . “I didn’t mean to say that.”

Without realizing his hand had resumed with a teasingly slow pace gliding over his cock. Jisoo replies quickly, “Say it again.” He bites his tongue, letting a breath slip past his wet lips, “please, shit, it sounded so good.”

Jihoon stays quiet for a moment, and Jisoo could hear the rustle of bedsheets before the sound of a zipper being jarred open. “Daddy’s baby boy…”he says, mostly as an experiment, and follows it with a dry laugh. “Who knew words could be such a turn on.”

“You’ve clearly never heard yourself dirty talk,” Jisoo chuckles, his leg having a small spasm as his hand grips harder on his length from the new, sensational burst of sybaritism. He whimpers, catching himself doing so a little too loudly, and whispers, “Daddy, I’m so hard.” The name tastes so new on his tongue, especially saying it so brashly to Jihoon. It’s the kind of taste when you’re offered an unknown piece of candy by your friend: hesitant to try, your fear thinking it’s tang with be bad until it melts over your tongue, and you’re opened up to a whole new world of indulgence right at your fingertips. “Am I going to be punished for this?”

“Of course,” Jihoon replies. If Jisoo listens hard enough, he’ll be able to hear the faint sound of Jihoon’s own skin slapping, his hand firmly tugging on his own cock as he bites back the loud moan threatening to spill from his bitten lips. “I’d love to see your ass all red and swollen. Daddy punishes hard, baby boy, did you know?”

_ It’s the third person, _ Jisoo thinks. His thumb rubs hard over the sensitive slit on his cock and he gasps. Jihoon referring to himself as another must be what’s causing the intoxicating continental to drift over him, like to address himself in the first would be too much to take credit for the great things his mouth has been doing. “I don’t know, Daddy,” he says. “Are you gonna teach me?”

“You bet I am, kitten.”

Jisoo shivers, his nail tracing down his length gently before wrapping it in a tight, rough grip, his head falling back as he moans. “How?” he rasps, twisting his head to the side. He lewdly spits into his palm and returns it to his length.

“Well,” Jihoon begins, and Jisoo wriggles on his bed as if getting comfy for the story. “First, I’ll make you strip, let you know how beautiful I think your whole body is.” (Jisoo swallows thickly, thinking of how hot Jihoon’s eyes will sear into his skin.) “You know the building opposite ours can see right into my office? I’d make sure they could all see how stunning you are, I don’t want you ever to be shy.” (Maybe Jisoo would stop and ponder on how sweet the romantic undertones were, but with his hand quickening around his leaking member, he pushes that down for later much like the scream that’s ready to burst from his chest.) “Then, I’d make you bend over my knee, maybe?” (It wasn’t a question that wanted Jisoo to decide, it was one that wanted him to think about how red and scorching his face would be, half from embarrassment, half from raunchiness, as he’s crooked over his boyfriend’s knee like a naughty toddler.) “and I’d make your ass bleed from how hard I’ll spank you.” (Jisoo wants that more than he can come to comprehend. He digs his nails roughly into the skin of his thigh, substituting for the feeling of Jihoon’s palm on his skin.)

Jisoo curls his toes into the mattress and whines. “Daddy, please,” he gasps, bucking his hips helplessly into his hand. “Please, I’ve been a real bad boy.”

With a sigh, Jihoon says, “Should I even give you that gratification? Hm?” while moaning so loudly the listener has to turn his head to the other side to not let it send chills dancing over his spine.

“Yes,” Jisoo breathes, “please, I’ll be a good body for you, Daddy.” There’s a twist in his gut, his hand working so fast now that it hurts Jisoo’s wrist. He flexes his body up and moans, rolls of sudden shocks spiking his body temperature yet making the tips of his toes curl into themselves like they were treading on ice. Ice so thin it’s seconds away from breaking. Jisoo stomps - he stomps so hard that the little cracks that form over the sheen sheet of frozen water mimic that of the cracks the grow and grow in the glass holding in his resistance. He jerks himself, drowning in the sound of Jihoon’s copied, breathy pants, letting out a frail cry the more and more it feels like he’s going to explode.

“But it’s much more fun fucking you when you’ve been a bad little bitch.”

Jisoo cums heavily, smacking his head on the wooden headboard and wailing out over the sound of Jeonghan’s loud snores. He gasps audibly, groaning as his bed sheets are stained with white his release and his breaths are chased from him like rampant vermin. “Oh, Jihoon,” he whispers, “fuck…”

Jihoon gives him a tired, genuine chuckle and exhales. “Yeah,” he says, “I know.”

Jisoo lies staring up at the ceiling that seems to morph and merge with little specks of starlight in the dim lighting of the lamp. He controls his erratic respires and smiles thinking merely of the way a washed out, sleepy Jihoon would look if he were curled up into him instead of lying alone in his bed.

“So…” Jihoon begins. Jisoo holds the phone between his shoulder and ear as he weakly reaches for a random shirt on the floor, starting to wipe the cum from his thighs, “Daddy, huh?”

Laughing quietly, Jisoo hums, agreeing. “Yeah… I think I quite like that…”

“You and me both, believe me.”

Collapsing back onto the bed, perspiration drying on his nose, Jisoo stretches his arms and lets out a mighty yawn.

“Tired?” Jihoon asks. Jisoo can hear him clattering around in his kitchen and smiles.

“A bit.” He looks to the door. “I’ll probably pass out sooner or later.”

“How’s your friend?”

“Drunk,” Jisoo chuckles, “very drunk. Heartbroken. His boyfriend was cheating on him.”

“Jeez that’s tough,” Jihoon says. “Not a fun time.” There’s a quiet pause before he continues. "Is that... like, going to become a thing?"

Jisoo rolls over onto his stomach and starts to fiddle with the loose strands of the pillowcase. "Me calling you Daddy?"

"Yeah."

He pauses. "Do you want it to?"

Jihoon takes a deep breath in, and Jisoo can hear the creak of him collapsing on his own bed. He holds his breath and waits.

"I think I do, yeah."

"Wonderful," Jisoo laughs. "I was waiting to spring it on you anyway."

"You should've told me earlier," says Jihoon. "You know how happy I am to always adhere to your kinks." He quickly follows up, before any embarrassment can sink in. “Hey, you need to get to sleep, anyway.”

Jisoo checks the clock– it’s nearing two in the morning, and he hums softly. “I would’ve if your horny ass hadn’t of called.”

“Oh, please, not like you weren’t gonna go to bed without jerking off either.”

Jisoo laughs, knowing it’s most likely the truth. “You get to sleep soon too, okay? Like, right now, I mean.” He grins. “Bossman needs his shut-eye as well.”

“Stop that, that nickname makes me cringe.”

“Yeah, but you love it though.”

“Not as much as you.”

It lingers in the air for a second, before Jisoo swallows it down.  _ I love you. _ It’s right on the tip of his tongue, so desperate to be spoken it stings and stains his taste buds. All he can hear is his own heartbeat masking the sounds of Jihoon’s soft breathing. He bites his lips, running a hand over his heart and feeling it hammer so fast it's like its trying to rip through his chest. There’s not a single ounce of doubt in his heart negating the feelings he has for Jihoon, but there’s still so tender and raw, like to label to three syllables and to shout them around would be like stripping them down of legitimacy.  _ Not yet, _ he thinks,  _ not over the phone. _ “Goodnight, Jihoon,” he says, instantly wincing of how robotic and formal it came.

“Goodnight, Jisoo,” Jihoon replies, less official, more playful. Jisoo kind of wants to smack himself with a cod. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Mh-hm,” Jisoo hums. “Tomorrow.”

Soon. He’ll say it soon.

 

*

 

Jihoon knows he’s some sort of hypocrite– he’ll nag his boyfriend to get his rest and stand staring at the city for hours himself. The grandfather clock standing in the foyer strikes the hour and three loud charms ring out. Three o’clock; the devil's hour, the hour of sin. Like the winds from the east had blown a dastardly breeze, carrying with it the lapse of immorality, the elevator dings, and the doors to the private lift slide open.

Many people in such a big, scary city would worry. It’s three in the morning and someone’s just waltzed into their apartment, who wouldn’t be scared? But Jihoon has no need to be, he knows exactly who’s letting themselves into his home. He can smell the alcohol a mile off and tries to ignore the sinking feeling of disappointment. 

“We’ve not met like this in over a month,” he says, as the guest takes a seat on the long, wide couch in the middle of the room, presumably after removing their coat and such. “You didn’t take that as a hint?”

A gentle chuckle rocks its way around the lounge, and a sigh as the visitor gets comfortable. “Thought you were just busy.”

“You thought wrong.” Jihoon doesn’t look over his shoulder, nor does he need to to see how much at home the intruder is making themselves. He keeps his eyes fixated on the distant sparkles of city lights that scatter his horizon.

“Well, be a bit colder, why don’t you.”

Jihoon hears the flick of a lighter and sighs silently. He hates the smell of cigarette smoke. It burns into the walls, sears his senses and leaves him bitter with agitation and a lung full of annoyance.

“Anyway, I was lonely,” the guest says. He takes a long drag of his poison and blows it out in a thick mass of smoke. “And thought you were too. So, I swung by to, you know, keep you company.”

Jihoon quirks a smirk before it falls and guilt washes over his entire being. “Thanks for the thought, but your company’s not wanted.”

The visitor hisses playfully and laughs. “Ouch, what’s got you so frigid?”

Jihoon doesn’t answer.

“Is it, perhaps, a boy?”

Jihoon stiffens, and the caller gasps.

“Ah-ha! It is a boy! Man, Mr. Lee Jihoon’s finally off the market. Who knew you’d get tied down so quickly.” Another drag of his cigarette. “Still, he doesn’t have to know.”

Jihoon grimaces. “Stop.”

"Oh, come on," they say. “I’ve got that lingerie on that you really like.”

“You need to leave.”

The guest sighs and slumps back into the sofa. “God, you’re so boring now. Who is this new boy toy of yours anyway?”

The more time he’s spending here, the more vexed Jihoon becomes. He digs his nails into his arm as they sit folded at his chest. He doesn’t answer still.

“Say, you have been awfully kind to that new assistant of yours.”

At the mere mention of Jisoo, Jihoon starts to see red. He bites down hard on his tongue to stop the sly insults feebly shooting from his lips. He looks into the window, barely able to make out the reflection of the man on his couch. He can feel his eyes on him, intrusive and inconspicuous, drowning him in a bath of timidness, making him feel small and weak.

He hates feeling weak.

“Oh, my God.”

Jihoon snaps his head to the side, still barely coming to glance at the man.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He takes another puff of the cancer.  _ “Him?”  _ Suddenly, the guest barks out a laugh and Jihoon feels his common sense dull. He counts to ten; he's sure he’s drawing blood from how hard he’s grasping his bicep. No one, and he means no one disrespects what’s his.

“Shut up.”  _ I will not fly off the handle, _ he thinks. “You’ve outstayed your welcome now.” 

_ I will not fly off the fucking handle _ . He tries to keep it in; think of a case and lock the rage in it, just like Nayoung had said. His breathing gets heavy the more and more he thinks,  _ don’t let it beat you, don’t let it beat you, don’t let it beat you. _

Jihoon hears a tut and a creak as the company stands from the couch. He holds his breath. “I always knew you were a bit dumb when it comes to love, Jihoon, but even I can say he seems a bit of a gold digging slut–”

Jihoon feels the almighty snap, reverberating deep inside his gut as he swings his fist in a fit of anger, crashing it hard against the durable window of glass. It doesn’t break and Jihoon’s not satisfied. He smacks it again, watching the way it wobbles and merges right back into place. Never, ever on this goddamned earth is he ever letting someone talk about Jisoo that way, especially not to him. He burls the fury up into his throat and be releases it in a bellowing shout. “Shut the fuck up!” He's mad. Insanely mad. The kind of mad that he knows could support him through murder. He hates that kind of mad, he's always left with an aftermath of tears, anguish, and weakness.

Jihoon hates feeling weak.

He stares, fiercely and harshly at the guest, his chest rising and falling as his face burns and veins pop on his skin. “Shut the fuck up, Seokmin.”

Jihoon’s too familiar with the feeling: the aching, soul-crushing feeling of knowing someone you hold so dear can be a whole new person right in front of your eyes. Jihoon remembers meeting Seokmin as a scared, tiny, timid boy, lost and all alone in the big city. After everything they went through, Jihoon gave him a job, Jihoon gave him a home, Jihoon cared for him and let him get way too close. What’s new? If only he'd learned to not let people so close.

Stunned is the word Jihoon would choose to describe Seokmin’s face. Of course, the latter knew already of Jihoon’s anger, of how it doesn’t take much to tip him in a cesspit of fury and strife. But never has Jihoon blown up so bad on him, nor Seungcheol, nor Jisoo, nor anyone he considers a friend. There’s a suffocating silence like the tension and spleen have both their hands firmly clasped around his throat.

Seokmin stays quiet for a second, his brown doe eyes that were red and weary, reflecting something Jihoon may once have fallen for, before his lips quirk and he scoffs. “You know, I can’t tell if you’re into the boy, or if Moon just–”

“Don’t talk about him.” Jihoon himself doesn’t know what he’s scared of, but the mere mention of that name sends chilled fear down his spine. “Just… please, Seokmin, please leave.”

Seokmin slowly trails back towards the elevator, taking a deep breath in as he collects his coat. “Do you love him?” he asks, turning on his heels.

Jihoon watches him silently, eyes burning over his skin.  _ God, _ yes. He wants to scream about how much he loves Jisoo, he’ll scream it until his face turns blue and he’s broken down in desperate sobs of emotion. After a prolonged period of quiet, Seokmin quirks his lips again, turning abruptly and heading out.

“I do.”

He looks back and the tips of Jihoon’s fingers feel numb.

“I love him.”

Seokmin's hard to read – he never used to be. The boy that Jihoon knew, the soft, ambitious kid that he used to know was always so open and warm. He hates it when Seokmin’s like this, when he drinks and changes into someone completely new. The Seokmin he knows from work, the one who smiles at the new kids and offers people lunch, that  _ his  _ Seokmin. He's changed as the seasons, as the weeks, months, and years went by. He changed the more he drank. Jihoon couldn't stop it, and he can't stop it now. He’ll smile and be who he wants to be surrounded by others, but Seokmin isn't who he used to be, and Jihoon can't change that no matter how much it hurts him, no matter how much he wants Seokmin back. 

"You know, there was a time that I thought you loved me." Seokmin presses the button to the elevator and smiles a sickly, twisted, broken smile. "But no. You were in love with that madman, no matter how many times we all warned you.”

It stings, indescribably so. Jihoon made Seokmin promise to never talk about him again, yet he can't distinguish what hurts more: the fact that Seokmin broke his promise or the digging up of such painful soil that unleashes an excruciating past like a swarm of wasps on him.

"You didn't listen. You have never been good at that. And look where it landed you."

The elevator doors open and Seokmin smiles one last time. "Don't let history repeat itself, Jihoon. Don't."

Then he was gone, and Jihoon isn’t sure if he’ll ever be back the same again.

 


	11. XI

“Well, someone looks fresh.”

Jisoo dumps his bag on his desk and scoffs dryly. “You have no idea how tired I am.” Pulling out the compact mirror from his backpack, Jisoo quickly checks his red, droopy eyes in his reflection, rubbing the black bags with his finger and wiping an irritated teardrop from the brim.

Jihoon leans against Jisoo’s desk and sips his bitter coffee. “Late night?”

“Long weekend.” Jisoo closes the mirror and turns to smile at his boyfriend. “Jeonghan’s twenty-sixth party lasted roughly two days.”

Jihoon quirks his brow and laughs. “Jesus, maybe you should take the day off, babe.”

Shaking his head, Jisoo rubs his very weary face with his hands. “No, I’m good. I told Seokmin I’d help out with the intern open morning anyway. Uh… if that’s alright? You have a few meetings today, so rather than sitting here bored, I thought I’d make myself useful.  _ Is _ that alright?”

As Jisoo diverts his eyes to his bag, Jihoon hopes misses the way his body unintentionally stiffens awkwardly, shifting from one foot to another, his mind racing with sudden conclusions.

_ Why would Seokmin want Jisoo’s help? _

Of course, Jihoon doesn’t think Jisoo is incapable of offering a hand around the company, he knows his assistant to be rather hands-on and eager. But the other night plays endlessly on Jihoon’s mind, what Seokmin said forcing its way into his head.  _ Gold digging slut. _

His blood boils at the thought.

“That’s perfectly okay,” Jihoon says, finding refuge in the dark swirl of his coffee. “I might just pop down later too, you know. Scope out the new meat.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds frightening.”

Jihoon chuckles and shrugs. “Well, you know me. Never been a traditional one, have I?”

“You certainly have not.” Jisoo leans back against the wood of his desk, pondering his eyes on Jihoon. “Are you okay?” He reaches out and fiddles with a loose bit of fringe dangling awkwardly out of place, trying his best to fix it. “You look pretty tired as well.”

“No, no,” Jihoon replies, all too quickly. “I’m okay, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“Did you not sleep well?”

“Just missed you, is all.”

With an unconvinced hum coming from the former, Jihoon quickly glances over his shoulder: the foyer of his floor sits empty apart from the two of them, most staff busy preparing for the event. He looks his boyfriend up and down beckons him closer with his finger, hoping to quickly expel any queries that cloud him. “You’ve forgotten something again this morning,” he says, wrapping his arms around Jisoo as he stands in front of him.

For a second, worry flashes across Jisoo’s face, until the two strong hands reach down and grope his behind and the panic melts away in an exchange for a sedated blush. “Jihoon…” he mutters, hands sprawled over Jihoon’s chest. “I’ve been in work for seven minutes.”

“That’s seven minutes without me touching you… seven minutes too long.”

“What did I forget then?”

Jihoon’s lips quirk into a smirk. “My morning kiss.”

Jisoo feels like he’s going to keel over and die. He clears his throat and holds his spine back to not lean into Jihoon’s warmth. “Is there…” He peers into Jihoon’s coffee on the desk with a playful grown.

“What?” the latter chuckles.

“…Is there something in your coffee that’s making you act like a saturated grease pan?”

Jisoo giggles and Jihoon rolls his eyes. He takes his chin between his forefinger and thumb and pulls it down so their lips are locked together in what is, firstly, a soft kiss, until Jisoo sets his arms either side of Jihoon, and is turning his head to kiss him deeply. He can taste the coffee on Jihoon’s tongue, feel the way his breath hitches the more he presses into him.

“Is there ever going to be a day where you don’t tease me?”

With his bottom lip drastically close to being clasped in Jihoon’s teeth, Jisoo smiles. “Context?” he replies confidently, despite the red staining his cheeks. It’s like Jihoon’s been feeding his self-sanguine to Jisoo the minute he met him; everyday Jisoo grows more confident and proud in his words and actions, this esteemed spell that Jihoon’s cast on him building him up so he can stand as big next to him.

Jihoon lowers his voice to a teasing whisper, chuckling softly and making the hairs on Jisoo’s skin’s stand up. “Not needed.”

He’s kissing Jisoo again, this time with more vigor and is ramping their hips so close it’s dangerous.

“Hm, Seokmin asked to meet me at quarter-past,” Jisoo says, pulling off yet their lips still brush together. “I should get going.”

“Pfft,” Jihoon snorts. “You have time.” He goes in for a kiss again, only to have Jisoo dodge it, mouth connecting with neck instead.

“I do, but your 09:10 meeting just got off the elevator.”

In a sudden move, Jihoon pushes Jisoo off him, spinning on his heels and facing the group of visitors with flushed cheeks and flustered grin. “Gentlemen!” he greets, Jisoo stepping to the side, smiling innocently with his shirt and hair suspiciously ruffled. “Welcome.” He flashes a snarky, albeit sexy smile to his boyfriend as he leads the guests into his office. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

 

“I should probably tell you this now: I’m not… the best with young, hip teenagers like potential interns who probably took AP classes in the fourth grade.”

Seokmin peers at Jisoo over the rim of black glasses, pausing his hands from shuffling through papers. “You do realize these ‘young, hip teenagers’ will be college graduates like yourself, right?”

Jisoo nods and swallows. “Sure, but anyone younger than me I am instantly intimidated by.”

Chuckling and closing the file in his hands, Seokmin turns to Jisoo with a warm grin. “You don’t have to worry, Jisoo. All you have to do is hand people the leaflet, say how much you love working here, but, uh, you didn’t take any sort of business or entrepreneuring major in college, did you?”

“Uhm, no, yeah the most I know about this stuff is what I pick up from Jihoon.”

“If anyone asks about anything like that, just pass them off to Seungkwan. He has a BA in finance and should be able to handle it.” Seokmin offers him a mug of coffee from the break room on the fifth floor, before guiding him to the elevator that will take them to the second, a floor taken out from its usual duty to hold the intern open morning. “Speaking of Jihoon,” he continues as the elevator doors slide closed, “has he… mentioned me at all this morning?”

Jisoo stops and considers what an odd question that is to ask. He hums, pursing his lips at his senior and shaking his head. “Nope, not that I can recall.” It’s not his place to ask, but he does so anyway. “Is… everything okay, sir? Has something happened between you two?”

Much to Jisoo’s relief, Seokmin chuckles at him rather than offering a scold. “Oh, nothing, nothing. Just a spat between friends.” He again sends over his radiating, warm smile and Jisoo nods in response. “Don’t worry about it.”

Jisoo doesn’t, despite thinking how now Jihoon’s tired state might make sense– quite frankly he knows its none of his business unless Jihoon wants to share it with him. But he still feels like he should worry about it.

 

*

 

“Jisoo.”

Jisoo turns on his heels and smiles widely at the growing familiar voice. “Seungcheol, hi!” He accepts the hug coming in from the man that he’s still figuring out if he is his friend or a mere acquaintance - friend of a friend, or boyfriend for that matter. “I didn’t know you were coming.” He frowns. “Why have you comingー I mean, have come.”

Seungcheol stuffs his hands into the pockets of his work pants and laughs. “English major, were you?” (Jisoo flushes.) “It’s a slow morning at the office, thought I’d come down and pay my best friend a visit. Although he seems to hate me doing that.”

Jisoo chuckles and collects a new batch of leaflets from the table. The foyer to the second floor is swarmed with hopeful, young teens still smelling of zit cream and the hottest new deodorant around, all hoping to grasp a chance at becoming an intern at one of the biggest companies in the whole of Seoul, in the whole of Asia, in fact. “Well, he should be done with his meeting in a little bit, feel free to hang around.” He looks at Seungcheol, who chews his lip with an unexpected worried look on his face. “…Are you alright, Seungcheol?” he asks. “You look kinda pale all of a sudden…”

Letting out a deep breath, Seungcheol winces. “God that was terrible.” and Jisoo gives him a thoroughly confused look. “I lied, I’m sorry. Jihoon actually asked me to come over to flirt with you so he can come down and catch me during said flirting, in turn causing you to break a ruleー” (Jisoo’s heart practically stops at the mention of their Rules. He knows, of course he knows; he has them written down on a note in his phone - Friday lunchtime was a bit wild for the both of them when deciding the set.) “ーso he can, I don’t know, I think he said, ‘Give you a talk?’ First of all, I don’t care what kind of kinky things you get up to, but can he not drag me into it? And secondly, don’t tell him I told you, he’ll kill me.”

Jisoo stands a little overwhelmed by the sudden confession, Seungcheol panting from his lack of breathing through the monologue. “Oh,” Jisoo says, staring blankly at the man in front of him. “Uh… thank you for telling me that, I think?” Despite his mediocre expression, the excitement starts to well up in Jisoo’s bones ー excitement in a toxic mix with nervousness. Although having basically set out everything for their… scenes , Jisoo and Jihoon are yet to actually act upon anything. Sure, there was teasing: explicit messages with the entrails of, ‘what I’m going to do to you when we’re alone.’ but nothing had ever come about from it yet. Jisoo hopes his fingers don’t look too fidgety.

“So, uhm… Seungcheol bounces on his toes, awkwardly. “I really haven’t flirted with anyone since my son was born, you know how kids are…”

From the corner of his eye, Jisoo takes note of the silver doors to the elevator sliding open and a suave looking Jihoon, adjusting his cufflinks steps out into the foyer. Quickly, as Jihoon scans the bustling crowd with his eyes, Jisoo turns to Seungcheol and motions him in closer. “He just arrived, pretend you whispered something funny into my ear.”

“I have a really dry sense of humor, according to Jihoon.”

Jisoo pulls back and gives a hearty giggle, no doubt attracting the attention of others as well as his boyfriend.

Jihoon looks over, stops and glares.

“Did it work?” Seungcheol asks like he was making any other conversation.

“I think so, he’s not smiling,” Jisoo replies. It’s stiff, fabricated, but he still feels so on edge with anticipation as Jihoon makes his way to them with big strides in short legs. Give me a talk? Jisoo wonders. No prizes for guessing what that entails.

“Well, does he really ever?”

Before Jisoo can utter another word, Jihoon’s hand is on Seungcheol’s shoulder, turning his best friend around to inject himself into the conversation. “Seungcheol,” he greets, stoic with an unbelieving smile, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Yes, you did. Jisoo smiles as Jihoon stands by him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Oh, Seungcheol just dropped in to say hi.”

“Slow morning.” It might just be Jisoo, but he swears to the Lord that Choi Seungcheol looks nervous. “I was actually going to ask if the two of you would like to come to lunch later. Or dinner?”

Jisoo opens his mouth, but stops, feeling the talons of Jihoon’s hand grip into his waist. “Thanks, man, but Jisoo and I already have reservations.” (Jisoo can tell this is acting – Jihoon’s never referred to anyone as ‘man’.)

Oh, no we don’t. The more Jihoon speaks, the warmer Jisoo’s body becomes.

“Does Seokmin still need you?” asks Jihoon as he turns to Jisoo. “There’s some paperwork in my office that I could really use your help on.” Jihoon’s face is solid stone, not so much as a blush or glint of cracking in sight.

No, there isn’t. Jesus, why is he so hot when he’s fake angry?

He looks back to Seungcheol, hands folded over his lap and nodding. If Jisoo weren’t seconds away from hyperventilating, he’d take that as the realization of how strong Jihoon’s influence really is. “Excuse us,” he says coldly, and Jisoo for a moment feels bad for Seungcheol.

Jisoo’s being pulled away then, Jihoon’s clasp at his waist loosening until fastening around his hand. He marches him in the direction of the elevator. “Jihoon,” Jisoo whispers, making their way through the masses, “what are we doing?”

“Amber,” Jihoon says, not glancing back but adding, “I hate it when people flirt with you.”

Jisoo’s fingers go numb and he has to fight the whimper scaling up his suddenly dry throat. Amber echoes in his head. Amber as in ready.

“Remember how you said we could use code words for things like this?” Jihoon had said. Jisoo looked up from his knees, panting, he and Jihoon covered in cum, and nodded. “How about something easy?” He helped Jisoo up and pulled him back into his lap.

“Go on.”

“One of us says amber if they want it, the other replies with green for yes, red for no. Ready, stop. go. We probably should’ve sorted a safeword too– like white, if we’re sticking with a color scheme.”

“Better than the idea I had.”

“What was the idea you had?”

“Cereal names.”

“Thanks, I’d rather you not sensually whisper Cap’n Crunch in my ear.”

“Amber,” Jisoo repeats as Jihoon pulls him into the elevator. “Amber.”

Trapping him into the corner, Jihoon brings his face up close to Jisoo’s, breath hot but sending shivers down his spine. “Say what you want.”

Swallowing, Jisoo runs his hands down Jihoon’s chest and exhales shakily. Nervous - natural for a first time, it was like he was losing his purity all over again. He looks into Jihoon’s warm, seclusive eyes. Jihoon in total control… Jisoo’s not hesitant to admit that he’s scared to submit fully to anyone. It takes a lot of testing, a lot of talking, a lot of trust in order to give your body to someone like that, but as Jihoon runs his fingers through Jisoo’s hair, he breathes: in out, in out. He’s here, Jihoon’s there, and he’d rather put that trust into no one else. Leaning in to press his lips softly to Jihoon’s he whispers, quiet, but loud enough:

“Green.”

 

*

 

“Strip,” comes the command as the office shuts with a slam. “And kneel.”

From standing idly in the middle of the room, Jisoo obeys the words, fingers fumbling quickly with his shirt as Jihoon leans against his desk, arms folded, stare intense. “A-all of it?” he asks. He runs his hands up his own torso, wrapping his arms around himself from the chill.

Jihoon quirks a smile and nods, taking in the blush dusting Jisoo’s cheeks. “Don’t be shy, kitten. You know I love it.”

Jisoo knows - by God, he knows. He strips off his shirt and drops it next to him, unbuttoning his pants and slipping them down his hips, swiping his shoes and socks off with them. His hands that tremble with anticipation come subconsciously to cover himself, the cold air scaling his skin up, but Jihoon tuts and shakes his head, looking at Jisoo like it was an examination.

“I said all of it, baby.”

With a soft whimper, Jisoo knows he’s incapable of disobeying any command Jihoon gives him. Biting his lip, he hooks his thumb into the waistband of his briefs and tugs them until they sit with the bundle of clothes too. He’s exposed; naked under Jihoon’s eyes, tearing him down and building him right back up again with the invigorating confidence. He glances behind his boyfriend and sees what Jihoon said is right: the workers in the office building opposite have a clear, scenic view any Tom would die for in this moment. He and he shies, hiding his body in on itself as he whispers, “Can you close the blinds?”

“But, babyー”

“Purple. Close the blinds, please.”

Instantly, Jihoon stands from his desk and hurries to press the button that brings heavy, metal blackout fortifications over the window which a mechanical whir. “Better?” he asks.

“Much. Blue.”

“Didn’t I ask you to kneel, baby boy?”

Dramatically, Jisoo drops to his knees with a thunk, eyes willing and boring up at Jihoon.

“Good,” he says. Jihoon leans forward and strokes Jisoo’s chin like a prize pet winning a treat. “Why’s Daddy mad, baby?”

Finding his throat suddenly thick and his lips quivering softly, Jisoo answers, “Because I was flirting with Seungcheol.”

“Hm, and what did I tell you?”

“To not flirt?”

Jihoon takes his chin suddenly into a firm grasp, not hard enough to hurt, but surprising enough to make him gasp and jolt. “I told you I want to be the only one who gives you that kind of attention. And I want to be the only one to get it from you.”

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers. His whole body flushes red: his cheeks, ears, chest, hands; he stares up at Jihoon with doey eyes that plead for some action as his cock weakly hardens on his thigh.

Everything’s so formal, so ceremonial, yet as natural to Jisoo as the blood that flows through his veins. If a stranger were to walk in on this scene, they’d see a watery-eyed, frightened-looking boy on his knees for a tyrannical man with a face a hard a titanium. But to Jisoo, to Jihoon, and anyone else who could come to understand, this is them. Jisoo asked for this, Jisoo wants this almost as dire as his need to breathe. He’s so happy and ready and willing to be taken up into this maelstrom of what is essentially a secret life derived from both of their minds and hearts and exclusive to only them. For the first time in an exceedingly long time, Jisoo’s totally and completely happy with what’s his.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Jihoon’s lips curl into a seductive, sadistic grin that makes Jisoo shiver. “Arms,” he growls, Jisoo’s hands flying up forthwith. “I think I’ve got to make you remember those rules, don’t I, baby boy?” Jihoon retracts and fishes through his work bag, emerging with a ring of red rope from the closet back home.

Jisoo’s breathing starts to shallow and he bites his lip while eyeing the restraint. He really did prepare this, didn’t he? With his arms up in the air, Jihoon wraps the rope around his wrists. It’s scratchy and barely malleable, the contact rough and irritating on Jisoo’s skin. He whines and gasps and Jihoon tips his chin back up.

“Answer?”

“Yes, Daddy.” In honesty, he’s forgotten what the question was.

“Good boy.”

Jisoo can’t describe how the small flickers of praise make him feel between the intoxication, Jihoon flashing from this dictatorial master to the common, sweet, archangel he knows so well. He’s so high on adrenaline, excitement, lust and love that sometimes the soft stroke on his cheeks or the pet of his brown, damp hair goes unnoticed. But the gentle gestures presented in the midst of the burning flames, they act as if they tame him; bring him down and help him feel again. He’d happily lose everything in the moment with Jihoon, but on the other hand, he never wants to miss a thing.

“What am I going to do, kitten?” asks Jihoon. He stands face on to Jisoo, blazer off and sleeves rolled up to his elbow. He’s dragging it out - he wants to savor every second just like Jisoo does, and wring his boy out to complete submission. (Of course, he already has it, but the game’s fun anyway.)

Stammering, Jisoo replies, “Punish me?”

“Is that a question?” Jihoon smirks. “Or a request.”

God, he makes him feel so small. Weak, timid, shy, needy –  Jisoo’s broken down into tiny pieces and strewn around like Jihoon’s personal play toy. He’s never felt so good.

“Request.” Jisoo swallows. He brings his eyes up and looks at Jihoon expectantly, glossy and big. “Punish me, please, Daddy.”

In a second, Jihoon’s pulling him up by his hands, yanking his body to its feet and crashing his lips into his. Jisoo can just stand, groan and submit to the heated kiss, bound hands going to grasp at Jihoon’s belt. They’re smacked away and Jihoon goes to clutch around his chin again. (He has a habit for that, clearly.)

"No touching," he says. "Bend over the couch for me."

It's happening, it's happening, it's happening. Jisoo feels himself pathetically whimper as he stands behind the sleek leather sofa and arches his body over. The back stands just at his hip and digs into his abdomen as he tries to relax. He suddenly feels the flush of heat over him and his pink cheeks turn drastically red.

There's a second of hesitation in the both of them as Jisoo looks over his shoulder and sees Jihoon nervously playing with his nails, picking and pinching his fingers. "Are you ready?" comes the voice, unsure and timorous, and Jisoo nods happily. He's scarlet with embarrassment, Jihoon's eyes and hands coming to glaze over his skin, but being so exposed and open, his legs a width apart and his knees starting to tremble, he's never before felt so right.

Jihoon takes his sweet, sweet time and Jisoo grows more and more desperate for rough contact. He pushes his hips back, pressing them to Jihoon's front in a meek way to ask him to hurry, earning a chuckle in return. "What did I say about being patient?"

It's like Jisoo can't even hear the ponder in his voice anymore. Certainly not as Jihoon lands his hand down on the side of his hip - it's light, brash, and leaves little more than a tingle over his skin, but it's something and Jisoo shivers, whines, digs his nails into his palm. "Please," he begs. His head's already going fuzzy from the blood gushing to it. "JihoonーDaddy, please. "

"Been a bad boy?"

Jisoo hears the tinkle of metal, and cranes his head around to see Jihoon loosening his belt. Oh, good fucking God. His heart starts to hammer, body slick with sweat and knee starting to jolt. He turns away and tenses, the soft touch of Jihoon's fingers making him flinch. "Yes, yes I have,” he replies. “God, I need it so bad…” And he does. He really, really does.

"Ten?"

Jisoo nods and chews his lip in anticipation.

Jihoon doesn't reply with words - or maybe he does and the pulsating of Jisoo's own heart masks the sound. He just folds the belt over and extends his arm behind him, hesitating with his hand gripping Jisoo’s cheek.  Jisoo squeezes his eyes shut and waits. He waits, and waits, and waits, feeling like he’s going to burst, until he peeks with one eye and finally feels the harsh scathe of leather against his skin.

"Agh!" he squeaks, voice cracking and body jerking forward. It’s hot and heavy over his ass; this sudden spark of pain flipping him suddenly like a plug. He hisses and moans out, ripples resonating over the tender skin as pleasure builds up in his gut. "Oh, fuckーshit, fuck thatー" His own cry cuts him off, words melting from his lips helplessly as Jihoon strikes again in the same place, cold hand coming to cup the burning flesh.

"Two," he says, not a single shake or tremble in his words. He's unaffected –  while Jisoo's bent over, a million and one emotions ripping through his being, Jihoon stands, performing the ritual like it's his second nature. "I want you to keep quiet for me, baby, can you do that?"

Jisoo nods and chews his lip. One more strike, the snap of belt against skin loud in the office as he throws his head back and he breaks the promise, letting out, "Fuck!" as tears start to well in his eyes. He tries to whisper Jihoon's name or variations of it at least, but nothing but a mess of ragged breathing and weak whimpers echo out of his mouth.

"Four," Jihoon says, landing the belt hard on Jisoo again, being met with a cry progressing to a howl. "Baby, if you can't shut your mouth I'll do it for you."

Jisoo shivers and shakes his head, eyes beading with wetness and a disgruntled gasp escaping his mouth. "It hurts," he says, adding, as a weak afterthought, "so good…" Another sudden hit and Jisoo chokes out a sob. "Daddy!" he yelps and Jihoon hums as he touches the red streaks appearing on Jisoo's behind.

“Look at how fucking pretty these are,” he says. The sting is indescribable, the kind that targets one bit of skin yet makes his whole body ache for it. He's sensitive and trembling and pain cuts through his senses like a sharp knife through a satin sheet.

"Oh, you're so good, aren't you, kitten?" Jihoon's taunting him, taking the last bits of honor he has and crushing them in his palm. He lands the sixth blow, somehow harder than the rest and Jisoo lets out a terrible scream of pleasure. Jihoon suddenly has his fist clench around a chunk of hair and yanks Jisoo back to hiss in his ear. "Listen, if everyone in this fucking building hears you and your dirty mouth, you don't go blaming me, alright?"

"Y-yes, Daddyーhnmn!" The next strike is lower, bordering on the skin of his thighs and Jisoo feels the mousy precum leak from his length, pooling on the floor below.

Jihoon tuts and teasingly runs his finger over the red member, making Jisoo quiver on the spot. "You're making such a mess, baby boy," he says, smirk staining his words proud. "Maybe I should buy you a cute, slutty maid outfit and make you clean it all up."

(If he weren't crying and whimpering weak begs for more pain, Jisoo probably would've said he'd love that.)

"Daddy, fuck, please, more…" Jisoo croaks. He sniffs in and counts in his head. Only two left; two, powerful spanks with his belt that he wants to savor with the most graceful intent. "I haven't learn-learned my lesson, yet."

Jihoon leans over and kisses his shoulder tenderly. "Oh, I know." Another strike, weaker, and Jisoo moans at how it still makes him feel like he's sinking further into a bath of lava. "I'll decide when you've done that."

Jisoo expected ten, but he's hit five more times consecutively, each one making an, "Ow!"; "Fuck!"; "Daddy!"; a whimper; a moan; legs kicking up and whining until the final strike lands dead in the centre of the battlefield, small speckles of blood dusting his cheeks. Jisoo breaks into cries, pained yet pleasured tears rolling down his face as his body falls weak of over the back of the couch. He's panting, breathing roughly, and his face is stained with tears and sweat. He's hard and leaking and craves the touch of Jihoon's skin on his. It comes in a gentle stroke of his sore ass and a nudge over the couch, which Jisoo falls on, the sting of the seat resonating his body.

Jihoon strokes his chest, his thighs, his shoulders, the hair from Jisoo's eyes and kisses him so softly Jisoo wonders how he can hold so much duality in his single soul. "You're such a good boy, Jisoo," Jihoon whispers. His hand goes and wraps around Jisoo's neglected cock, pumping that slowly at first until Jisoo's curving his back, wriggling and gasping for more of a pace.

His lip is bitten badly already, maybe bleeding, but so much sense is focused on his aching member and the pain flooding his ass he can barely register the metallic taste. “Jihoon…” he calls quietly and has his body instantly embraced by his boyfriend, kissing his shoulder and whispering words.

“So good,” he praises, “you’ve earned it, baby boy. Cum for me.”

Jisoo wriggles his wrists, stinging from the rope and wraps them around Jihoon’s neck. They kiss passionately, Jihoon quickening his hand and swallowing Jisoo’s moans, breaking off to quietly say, “I’m sorry.”

Jisoo feels like a flimsy piece of paper, soaked by the ocean and bobbing aimlessly on the surface. He’s exhausted, worn out; tired and hot and drained but so blissed out and so very much in love. The words are trapped behind the lump in his throat, nothing but gasps and moans coming from him as he shakes and shivers, curls his toes and cums hard into Jihoon’s hand.

Jihoon kisses him again, and again and again, wipes the tear stains and tells him, "You're so amazing, you know?” Jisoo gives a weak, warm smile. “I think I’m just about the luckiest man right now.”

Jisoo can’t bring himself to communicate. His eyelids are dropping, limbs feel weightless; it’s almost like he’s feeling free. Jihoon kisses his forehead and hovers over Jisoo on the couch. “It’s okay,” he says, nothing more than a whisper of wind against the tranquility of the room, “you can sleep, it’s okay.”

And Jisoo does. He falls deep, deep into sweet sleep, wrapped up in a blanket of warmth and doting.

 


	12. XII

At the sound of the leather couch squeaking, Jihoon halts his typing.

His heart feels unnecessarily violent, pounding aggressively in his chest with a solid boom-boom-boom,  as he waits to hear another sound of consciousness. Sure enough, he sees a pair of tan arms stretch up, and the soft hum of a post-nap groan as Jisoo slowly starts to wake from his slumber. Jihoon calms - maybe he was irrationally thinking the utter worst when Jisoo passed out - and grins getting up from his desk and wandering around the couch to greet him.

“Hello, sleepy,” he says. He perches on the armrest by Jisoo’s head as the latter rubs his even more worn eyes. They’re a tad red and puffy, and tear streaks still stain his cheeks, but he radiates a sort of unearthly beauty carefully crafted with a sweet amount of cuteness. He looks up at Jihoon and smiles softly, stiff body reaching out, so Jihoon takes his hand in his.

“Hi,” Jisoo replies sleepily. He sits up and winces at the common sting under his behind, to which Jihoon instantly goes to hold his shoulders. “How long did I sleep for?”

Everything they say is hushed, quiet, unbeknownst by them like it’s meant only for them.  

“About two hours-ish.” Jihoon spies the red irritation around Jisoo’s wrists and reaches out for the bottle of ointment on the coffee table. “I think you were just all roads of tired.” He lathers some onto his fingers and turns Jisoo’s wrists in his hand, gently, like tending to a baby, rubbing the cream over the lines of swollen inflammation.

Jisoo lets out a small chuckle and hums. “That feels nice,” he says, using the free hand to wipe sleep crust from his eyes. “Do you just carry these things wherever you go?”

Laughing, Jihoon shakes his head. “No, I keep them in my desk. Just in case, you know. Can you bend over for me?”

Having been wrapped up in a blanket and his work shirt already (Jihoon never knew how hard dressing an unconscious person would be), Jisoo follows the instructions before– “Can you do it with me over your knee?” He’s blushing, and Jihoon flushes a color to match. He sits in the middle of the sofa and lets Jisoo drape himself over his knees. If it weren’t in the aftermath of an already heated spell, Jihoon thinks the action would just about turn him right on. He keeps his breath held as he first traces his fingers over the sensitive skin, halting as soon as Jisoo flinches.

“It’s still raw,” Jihoon comments, watching Jisoo nod. He lets out a silent sigh and squeezes layers of lotion onto his hand, transferring that to the dark red, almost purple of Jisoo’s ass.

“Ow…” he hisses quietly, burying his face into his elbow. Jihoon reaches out with his clean hand and strokes it through his hair, soothing massages over his scalp.

“I know, I’m sorry, baby.” He bites his lip. Maybe the belt was a little too soon. “We’ll go a little easier next time.”

“No,” Jisoo replies hastily. “No, this time was perfect, I’m just not used to, like, this.”

“What? Properly taking care of you after?”

Jisoo chuckles, hissing suddenly after Jihoon touches a particularly rough area (“Sorry! Shit…”). “Yeah, uh, the last time anything near this happened - not with you, don’t worry - he wasn’t like this.”

Jihoon pauses and swallows. He doesn’t know what gets him more: knowing someone did this without care, or someone did this to Jisoo without care.

“He wasn’t an actual dominant or anything,” Jisoo continues, “just a guy I got drunk with in college and–” he chuckles “–asked to do it on a one night stand.”

Trying not the let his wits leave him, Jihoon clenches his fist and chuckles along, applying another generous coating of ointment. “Your college days surely do sound intense. Did you even have time to study?”

Jisoo lets out an airy laugh and hums. “I question how I got through it– ow!”

“Sorry! Sorry… Bad spot–”

“No, baby, you’re gripping my hair…”

Jihoon instantly stops all movement and hold his hands up as Jisoo giggles. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Sitting back on his knees, Jisoo leans in and places a gentle kiss to Jihoon’s lips. “Hard to break character sometime, huh?”

“I’m sorry, I–”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Jisoo crawls forward and swings one leg over Jihoon’s, plopping himself down on his lap with their bodies facing together. “For any of it.”

Jihoon’s heart starts to hammer again, and he chews his lip to stop his breathing sounding harsh. He tentatively holds Jisoo’s waist as the latter comes in for another kiss, warm and homely against his lips and addictive to his tongue. They kiss deeply, Jisoo’s taller stature somewhat tangling with Jihoon’s as he holds his cheeks and pulls off to whisper, “Oh, and Seungcheol asks for you to stop dragging him into our kinky sex.”

At the troubled frown, Jisoo laughs.

“He told me.”

“Oh, that piece of _shit.”_ Jihoon rolls his eyes, thinking of the words to berate his best friend with later and sighs. “Can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

With an understanding hum, Jisoo reaches a hand up to brush the hair from Jihoon’s eyes. “You don’t ever need an excuse to punish me, you know, babe,” he says. “Though I will admit, the whole formality is really working for me…”

Jihoon echoes his chuckles and rubs his hands under Jisoo’s shirt. “I know, I know, I just don’t…” He bites at his cheek hesitantly. “I just don’t want to hurt you too much. Or make you cry.”

“Well, it’s hardly going to tickle, is it?”

Jihoon shakes his head and leans it into quickly kiss Jisoo. “I know, just sometimes… too much is too much, isn’t it? I don’t want to have to break that barrier.”

“Hm, we’ll never know if we never try. Besides…” he dones a wide grin, “you have no idea how long my gauge can be...” The latter slips his eyes closed and rests his forehead against Jihoon’s. “Also, I like this.”

“This?”

“This.” Jihoon falls deep into his eyes as he opens them again, hands cupping Jihoon’s cheeks sweetly. “We always talk after sex. I like that.”

Jihoon mimics the broad smile on Jisoo’s lips and replies, “But we haven’t had sex yet.”

“That comes later, right?”

“Hm, depends on how good you’ll be.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“But that’s the fun part.”

Jisoo kisses him in what he suspects is to shut him up, craning his head in all directions and enveloping himself in the compulsive warmth of the other. Jihoon resists the temptation to reach down and grope Jisoo’s behind, feel the doughy, soft flesh between his fingers in exchange for not hurting him further. He just grips his waist, instead  holding him delicately like his hands hold too much power to control.

Jisoo kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him until he can’t combat the need to breathe any longer. He’s so warm, Jihoon thinks, so special and dear that every time he thinks of the hot, belated tears down his cheeks he winces.

_Why am I so unused to this?_

Jisoo pulls back and holds Jihoon’s face in his hands. “Stop it,” he says, stroking his cheekbones with his thumbs.

“Stop what?”

“You’re acting guilty.” Jisoo smiles and just about pinches Jihoon’s skin. “You have this puppy-like look when you feel guilty.”

Sighing, Jihoon pulls Jisoo in for a longer kiss and mutters, “I’m sorry.” against his lips. He reaches out for the rest of Jisoo’s clothes and pulls a face when the former suggests going back to work. “Don’t you want to rest a bit?”

“No, I’m good,” Jisoo replies , stretching and checking himself out in the reflection of the windows. “I can’t be lazy all the time.” He kisses Jihoon quickly and finishes buttoning up his shirt, chirping, “Back to work now.” as he saunters away slinkily, springing back to his normal (as normal as Jisoo really can be described) self.

“Coming over later?” Jihoon calls just before he leaves. He settles back into his desk chair, the midday sun washing sparsely over the leather as Jisoo leans against the doorframe with one of his oh-so-attractive gleams on his lips.

“You bet.”

 

*

 

By now, Jisoo’s not unfamiliar with the pretty scape of sparkling lights and vibrancy from the city, especially not so from such high up. But, as you would, he guesses it’s quite hard to focus on it as his eyes blur and legs shake, and he’s falling back into Jihoon as he orgasms plentifully over the spotless panes of glass for windows.

The penthouse is hollow, he’s realized as his moans reverberate around it often, even more so now as he tumbles to his knees on the floor of the sitting room, sweat coated and panting, Jihoon behind him carding his fingers through his messy hair. He takes a second and recollects his breath, keening into the feeling and finding his head resting on Jihoon’s thigh. The latter inches back until he rests against the back of the sofa, his chest rising and falling too as he smiles, widely and abrasively down at his boyfriend.

“How’s that for being good, hm?”

Jisoo wants to laugh, but his breath can’t carry him that far, so he stands, hands gripping Jihoon’s untimely, half-buttoned shirt and loose tie to reer himself up and be wrapped up in Jihoon’s arms. “I think I can get behind this whole rewards system.”

Jihoon chuckles and kisses him gently, pondering with his look lingering into Jisoo’s eyes. He’s so fond, Jisoo thinks, his eyes so deep and calming and puppy-like– _He’s giving me the guilty eyes again._

“Stop, oh my god!” Jisoo wriggles from  Jihoon’s arms and cases him in with his own, hands sprawled over his cheeks as he pretends to shake his head. “Stop looking so guilty!”

With an exasperated sigh, Jihoon scoffs and replies, “I can’t help it!”

“Yes, you can!” Jisoo breathes a laugh and holds Jihoon’s hands. “You can, why do you feel so guilty in the first place? I’ve never heard of a sadist who doesn’t like doing sadism-ing…-ly stuff.”

“It’s just been a while okay?” Jihoon stands and brings Jisoo around the room to the kitchen. “Since anything like it’s happened let alone with a belt.” He offers Jisoo a cold glass of water as he leans against the island. “You sure it wasn’t too much too soon?”

Jisoo shakes his head and sips at the drink as Jihoon turns his back to the fridge. He wonders how long it’s really been. It feels wrong to want to know about the last person Jihoon shared this special, almost sacred practice with, but is it really? He doesn’t want to feel like the jealous boyfriend, but he has so many questions: who were they? How much did they like? How long did they stay? Why did they leave?

Were they better than him?

Jisoo knows patience isn’t the strongest virtue Jihoon has. There’s a wonderfully bloomed selection of masochists out there, already chin deep in experience with this kind of world. Why would Jihoon waste his time and choose a bud, miles of knowledge in his head but only toe deep in practice? Jisoo’s got a list of things that don’t seem to make sense, and this is turning into one of them.

“As Pat Benatar sang, hit me with your best shot, right?”

Jihoon peeks over his shoulder and curls his lips into a grin, and Jisoo quirks a flirtatious brow over the rim of the glass.

_God, I’m getting good at this._

“So, do you want to order something?” Jihoon asks, his attention now less on the ready-made meals he hopes to be in his fridge. “I’m feeling pizza. I mean, I’m always feeling pizza, but tonight’s like a _pizza_ pizza night.”

Inconspicuously, Jisoo hums as he wanders around the kitchen island, humming in agreement before taking Jihoon’s back against his chest and kissing his shoulder. “I mean it, you know.”

Feeling the warmth on his skin, Jihoon cranes his neck. “Mean what?”

“Hit me with your best shot…” He smiles as he sees Jihoon flip an eyebrow. “Just saying, I don’t think those rules are quite… forced into me yet.” Jisoo takes Jihoon’s hand, cold from the refrigerator and brings it around his body, so it lays flat over his cheek.

Jihoon hesitates for a second, turning to look at Jisoo before he snickers. “Nice try, baby.”

Deflated and walking back to lean against the marble, Jisoo chuckles. “Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

“Oh, pulling the actual Daddy card. Okay, I got you.”

“I almost broke the skin of your ass, Jisoo,” Jihoon says. He fishes through a drawer and pulls out a take-out menu. “You’re going to heal before I get a hold of you again. What do you want?”

“But what if I break a rule? Anything, thanks.”

“Then I’ll punish you in other ways.” Jihoon looks so nonchalant as he reaches over for the landline, taking no notice of the way Jisoo’s bottom lip pops out in a pout. He presses the phone to his ear and waits, starting idle talk with the pizza place on the other end.

Jisoo drums his fingers on the island top and bites his lip. “How so?” he says, after Jihoon puts the phone down.

“Oh, I can think of many ways.” Jihoon pinches his chin and smiles, kissing him quickly before Jisoo flops down over the granite.

“Will you do it if I beg?”

“Babe!” Jihoon laughs. “Stop asking, I’m not going to spank you again for a while.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

“Then I’ll tie your hands together.”

“... Touche.”

Jisoo stands and wraps his arms around Jihoon’s body again, swaying slowly to the beat of nothing and pressing his lips to the mess of brown hair. The kitchen is quiet but his ears buzz loudly - now would be a good time to say it, right? Just a soft whisper over Jihoon’s shoulder would do, maybe? It's hardly a grand romantic moment, slated with passion and flooded with rose petals, but what’s the point in blowing something up that big? Jisoo’s a romantic, he knows he is: he melts at the sight of a flower bouquet and has never been to a wedding that didn’t make him cry. Everyone envisions those three little words to be spoken in a moment cut straight from a Meg Ryan film; drowning in the epitome of the perfect relationship cliche. But is that really what happens, ever? Standing in the kitchen waiting for a pizza because you’re too lazy to cook, isn’t that what real life is like? Bursts of titanic romantic gestures don’t last a lifetime, but things like this do, right?

“Jihoon?” Jisoo starts to feel his face heat up, his palms become clammy, and the simple words start to muddle up in his head. “I–”

“If you ask me one more time, I swear to God, I will fuck you so hard you can barely stand.”

Well, there’ll be other chance.

Rolling his lips together and clearing his throat, Jisoo suddenly forgets what love is meant to be, and stares deep into Jihoon’s eyes, lust rolling out of them in the tenfold. “Is that a–a threat? Or a promise?”

Jihoon pauses and his lips curl into a provocative smile. “Couch. Now.”

Strewn amongst the mess previously made in the living room sits a bottle of lubricant. Jihoon grabs it as one hand tangles into Jisoo’s hair and pulls his head back, a groan and a hiss slipping from the latter’s lips. Jisoo’s nails cave deep into the leather cushions and the sore skin of his behind is roughly met with Jihoon’s rough palms, groping and soothing at the same time.

“We’re going to get something straight here,” Jihoon begins. He runs his hands up and down Jisoo’s sides, Jisoo shivering as he presses his lips to his shoulder too. “What I say goes.”

His knees quiver, aching under the pressure of supporting and he nods, a quiet, “Yes, sir,” leaving his mouth. Jihoon lands a smack to his hip, purposefully light just to tease. Next, his hand is running up his spine, feeling the curve of his back in the finest angle as he takes two of the other fingers, small coating of lube, and presses them knuckle-deep into Jisoo.

“When I say you’re done, I mean it.”

“Yes, sir–”

Another light smack. “Understand?”

“Yes,” Jisoo swallows thickly. “Yes.”

“Say it back.” Jihoon curls both fingers and Jisoo moans.

“What Daddy says goes.”

Jihoon leans around and kisses Jisoo briefly, softly stroking his sides before he mutters, “Good boy.” and replaces his two digits with the thicker asset of his cock.

Stretched but still a squeeze, Jisoo’s body is riddled with shakes and shivers as he gasps and moans and whines, “God… Hm…”

“You missed this feeling already.”

“I did,” he groans. Jihoon barely moves, just inches himself ever deeper into Jisoo until his hips meet his ass in an excruciatingly long wait for viable friction. “I love it. A lot.”

“I wish you could see how good you take it, baby boy,” Jihoon just about whispers. He touches everywhere on Jisoo’s skin, like a delicate sculpture soon to be locked in an archive. Jisoo savors the feeling of his fingertips massaging into his plush skin just as much as Jihoon does as he speaks.

“Maybe you should film it,” he says. He’ll probably regret giving Jihoon another option to distract with as his head spins in need to be fucked, but goddamn wouldn’t that be hot?

“Oh, you’d want to be filmed?” Jihoon taunts. He starts to move back, dragging his length from Jisoo slowly.

“Yeah,” Jisoo moans. “By you. Only for you…” He reaches out and grabs a cushion and buries his face in it, his body perfectly aching for Jihoon to do anything with. “Jihoon,” he calls. “Please.”

Jihoon chuckles at the muffled words and leans down. “What was that, kitten?” He presses himself back in. “Didn’t catch that.”

“You said… you’d fuck me. Hard.”

“Ask nicely.”

Jisoo pulls his head up and rests it sideways, peeking at Jihoon over his shoulder. “Fuck me, Daddy. Please. Pretty please. With a cherry–ah!”

“Don’t be facetious now.” Jihoon lands a smack on his hip in the same place, hard, and presses Jisoo’s body forward into the couch. “Polite boys get fucked better.” He lifts his hips out and quickly slams them back in, slap resounding against Jisoo’s behind as he moans into the pillow. “Manners and rules,” he says, gripping Jisoo’s hips and hitting him with a series of hard thrusts, “I’ve got a lot to teach you.”

With each impel, Jisoo cries out and gasps, his thoroughly ready body fucked into like a lame toy. His hips rub against the pillows, fabric taunting his aching member as he jerks and jives to the rhythm of Jihoon’s thrusts. “Daddy!” he almost howls. “Fuck, fuck!” His head spins and sweat drips. The second orgasm of the night is always the quickest (according to Jeonghan) and the best. He clings on to the last threads of stability as Jihoon transforms into the untamed God Jisoo’s becoming used to.

He sinks deeper and deeper into it, but not the gentle, floating kind of sinking. It’s the type where he thrashes, smacks his hands against the couch and cries out in loud, “Jihoon! Yes, there!” the more times he’s fucked deep and hard and fast and good.

“It never takes long to make you cum does it?” Jihoon taunts, and Jisoo’s reply is a feeble moan. He reaches down and wraps his hand around the base of Jisoo’s cock, tutting as the latter whines and tries to rut against the sofa. “You’re going to finish only after me, get that?”

“Yes sir,” Jisoo replies shakily. Jihoon wastes little time before his own moans and curses are filling the air like a raging fire with billowing smoke. Jisoo bites the cushion close to tears as he clenches himself harder the quicker Jihoon slams his hips down. The drag, brace and impact feel phenomenal on an already abused spot but the praise– Oh, God the praise.

Jihoon grips his skin like it’s his life handle; he gnaws at Jisoo’s shoulder and growls like he’s being overcome with an obscure sense of predatory. He whispers the roughest, dirtiest of things about Jisoo, at the same time commending him for, “how good you fucking feel.” Jisoo would go out on a limb and say that the way Jihoon gasps and moans in his ear, telling him that he’s such a great thing to fuck could just about level with the way his dick makes him feel. In the current moment, of course – if he weren’t getting brutally fucked down, Jisoo would love to rattle off all the things he loves about Jihoon indifference to his sex appeal.

Jisoo loves it – all the degrading, filthy names make an addictive tonic when thrown in amongst the soft words of, “You drive me mad with it.” or a broken, “Fuck, you’re so perfect.” He loves that it’s him who does it too; just him and his body being the soul root of Jihoon’s affliction. Being with someone so wonderful yet having them say  you're all they’ve ever wanted really does do things to one’s ego. Maybe it’s a sin to become so proud of his own desirability, but Jisoo doesn’t care much as Jihoon’s own special way of showing it comes in the form of a few hard thrusts and getting his body full of lewd, heavy cum.

Jihoon just about falters as he moans loud next to Jisoo, lazy, wet kisses opened over his skin while his hips still try to hold up a pace. Instead of gripping, his hand starts to jerk Jisoo’s neglected cock, dry pumps making rough friction that ends in Jisoo quivering.

“Daddy…” he whimpers. He’s exhausted but still so hopped up on the feeling that he manages to crane his neck back and let Jihoon give him a deep, messy kiss as he rocks his hips in and flicks his wrist to match. Jihoon’s words become as soft as the lighting: the faint bar lights to a background of the sparkling city.

“You’re amazing,” he utters. Jisoo wriggles, close and comforted by the sounds of him and groans, digging his nails harder into the pillow. “I’m such a fucking lucky man you know.”

Jisoo nods and tries to formulate words to reply, but only a hearty, coming moan is released. With the hairs on his back standing and his toes and feet curling, Jisoo cums with whatever strength he has left before he collapses dumbly on the couch underneath him.

Jihoon's quick to him, running his hands through his air and leaving soothing kisses down his back. "God you're tired," he chuckles disbelievingly. Jisoo, indeed tired, cracks a smile in reply.

"And who's fault it that, hm?" His eyelids falter and he rests his head against his shaking arms. "I should clean up," he suggests, pairing it with a yawn before Jihoon childishly drapes himself on top.

"No, you're going to sleep," he says. Jisoo laughs and can barely muster the strength to the roll the man off.

"But the mess–"

"Shush, I'll take care–" Jihoon stops as the loud buzzer of the door scratches the quiet away, smiling down at the latter who smiles back up. "Uh, sex and pizza anyone?"

 

*

 

Moonlight lands in streaks over the rose gold sheets wrapping Jisoo up in warmth. Sleeping patterns have never been an issue per say, but with half a pepperoni pizza in him and his body losing feeling as he thinks, Ji soo finds he's tossing and turning a lot through the night. He reaches out, wanting to feel the homely warmth of Jihoon against his skin, but feels around only to be met with the cold half of the mattress. Through the sleep crust, Jisoo cracks open an eye and sees vacancy next to him, dips of moonlight filling the space that's meant to be filled with his boyfriend. He stays quiet, thinking maybe he'll be just in the bathroom until he shuffles around in bed to the window and sees a figure curled up on the backless couch.

A split second of panic before Jisoo realizes who it is. He opens his mouth, some sweet remark lined up, but he's swiftly stopped by Jihoon's voice slicing the silence.

"He doesn't hate you," he says, repeating quieter, "He doesn't hate you..."

Jisoo starts to sit up, halting when Jihoon lets out a sniff and a choked sigh. He can see the light refract stains down Jihoon's cheeks, and his heart clenches in an almighty pang.

"He trusts you," he continues, "and you trust him." His voice is shaky; broken and he trembles where he sits. Jisoo wants to jump up and wrap his body in a fleet of hugs and affection but he stays still and waits.

What's he on about? Is Jisoo 'he'? He sits confused and hurting, so much shrouded in secrecy his head pulsates. He pulls the blanket closer to his chin at the sudden chill washing o ver him. He wants to call out and bring Jihoon close, hold him, kiss him and tell him just how much he loves and trusts him to combat whatever foul things are filling his head right there.

Jihoon stares at the city for a good five minutes before a sigh leaves him, his proud, strong body deflating like a weak animal giving in to capture. He turns his head to Jisoo, the latter quickly snapping his eyes shut as he hears the creak of wood and the faint padding of Jihoon's feet against the floor. The mattress dips beside him, and a pair of cold, goosed arms reaching over to cradle his waist. Jisoo pretends to stir, giving a believable sigh and turning to face Jihoon with sleepy eyes.

"Sorry," comes the quiet whisper, "just me. Go back to sleep."

"You okay?"

With his lids dropping and fatigue scribbled over his red cheeks, Jihoon nods and offers a weak smile. "It's late. Sleep."

Jisoo nods back as Jihoon closes his eyes finally. He drains in the beauty of his peaceful face, so calm and scenic, but Jisoo has an idea there's a hurricane happening in secret.

He wants to say it, loud and proud like it's his mantra, but the lump standing firm in his throat holds him back like chains on a dancer. He says, "Hey."

No response. He swallows and tenderly kisses Jihoon's forehead.

"I love you."

And he’s met with silence.

 


	13. XIII

“Jihoon!”

“What?” comes the whine in reply. Contrary to what Jisoo had hoped, Jihoon buries his face further into the silk pillow, curling the duvet over his bare shoulders and muttering, “Five more minutes.” before another soft snore sounds his way.

Jisoo switches off the second snooze alarm and pokes Jihoon again to stir him. “Come on, we need to get up,” he chuckles. Jihoon wriggles around for another few seconds before settles still and ignores Jisoo completely.

“It’s past seven, babe,” Jisoo says. 

No reply.

“We’ll be late…” 

Nothing.

With a sigh, a fully awake Jisoo starts to clamber out of bed, only then getting a response in the form of a groan and a hand extending to grab his shirt. “You stay here,” Jihoon slurs. “You’re warm.”

Jisoo sits crossed legged by Jihoon’s side, watching and laughing as the latter curls himself into the last few ounces of warmth available, his hair messy and eyes barely open. Jisoo thought he’d seen it all – the side of Jihoon that was as badass as a beast in a business suit compared to the side of him that was as soft as a grabber machine full of kittens. This –  the endearing glow that radiates from Jihoon now, with his swollen eyes and pouty lips, is a level of delight he didn’t know was possible. He runs his hand through Jihoon’s untamed hair and almost coos like he’d do to a small puppy.

“You can sponge off my body heat when we’re up and dressed,” Jisoo, regretfully, decides because although time and work are of the essence, Jisoo’s punctuality can’t threaten the want to be cuddled up in bed with Jihoon on a cold October morning. “I’ll go make coffee.”

“No,” Jihoon practically whines. He grabs to Jisoo and refuses to let go, desperate for a few more minutes in the sheets.

“Yes,” Jisoo protests with a laugh. “You can’t stay in bed all morning.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Watch me,”

“Babe, get up.”

Jihoon smushes his face back into the chilling pillow and groans. “Just stay and keep me warm a little longer.”

“We need to go.” Jisoo strokes his head again. “If this is you on Tuesday, I seriously anticipate a tough Monday.”

“Hey.” Jihoon picks his head up and lays it sidewards, facing Jisoo. “You should do what Daddy says.”

Jisoo falters for a second. If one could see thoughts, his mind would be a cluster of tired confusion. Beside his teasing, Jihoon’s endearing shines like a lighthouse, last night’s questions the fog and Jisoo a sailor on a ship - as much as he wants to work through the mass mist and stand drowned in the light from land, Jisoo doesn’t know what to say. Maybe Jihoon doesn’t know what to say just as much, thus why he cried. The more he thinks about it, the more it aches, so he shakes his from himself quickly and reaches over to shove his boyfriend playfully, “You’re not allowed to use that here!”

“Why?”

“Because!” Jisoo scoffs as Jihoon smiles devilishly up at him. “That’s not how it works.” Still, a blush dusts his cheeks. “Don’t go saying things like that in public…”

“What, and embarrass you?”

“Well, it’s not expected of someone to call their boyfriend that. Are you going to get up now?”

“Changing times and all. Only for a kiss.”

Jisoo tints again and looks away. “You’re so cute it’s annoying.”

“Kiss, please.”

“Whatever.”

Jisoo leans down and gently holds his lips against Jihoon’s, hesitant to give him too much. The latter rubs his arms as he leans into his heat, eyes fluttering shut just as Jisoo pulls away to whisper. “If you’re not up in three I’m tipping cold water on you.” He slides off the bed, much to Jihoon’s protest and rushes out of the bedroom with the promise of hot coffee too.

 

*

 

The weather changes. The leaves get browner, shriveled up and crunched underfoot; it’s sweater-weather all day long as opposed to sweater-weather in the morning and sweltering by the afternoon; scarves, warm coats and tea in styrofoam cups make their annual debut and Jisoo dyes his hair from Chocolate to Tawny.

“I’m into it,” Jihoon comments as he passes his desk. Jisoo fiddles with the strands and smiles, typing away at his computer as the former kisses his head.

The days are shorter but seem to last longer. Six o’ clock doesn’t come around until what seems like ten, and the streets are already dark with the warming glow of the lamps by the time he looks out the window. Jihoon’s hours get longer (“People just love doing business in Fall, I guess,” he’d say) and Jisoo likes to stay to help until he’s physically pushed into the elevator with his boyfriend exclaiming, “Go have a life!”

He knocks on the door on Friday evening and leans against it when it opens.

“Are you heading out?” Jihoon asks, eyeing Jisoo bundled up for the wind washed city.

“Hmhm, are you anywhere near finished?”

From sitting at his desk, Jihoon flexes his arms above his head. It’s that time of day where his formal attire has been stripped down to his shirt, sleeves rolled up and his tie disregarded in exchange for an open collar. He sits cross-legged in his chair too, shoes off, and his blazer covering his lap in a makeshift blanket.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Could take me all weekend to work through this shit.”

Jisoo cracks a smile and nods. Jihoon stares rather aimlessly up at the ceiling for a few moments, the churning of the printer filling the gaps of comfortable quiet.

“We haven’t been to dinner in a while,” he quips suddenly.

Jisoo chuckles and adjusts his bag strap on his shoulder. “No, we haven’t. But, if you’re busy, we can just do it Monday–”

“No, please. Give me an excuse. Save me.” Jihoon laughs as Jisoo does. “Let me take you out.”

“Hm…” Jisoo hesitates, at first playfully before he thinks. “How about I take you out for once?”

Jihoon quirks his brow and sits up in his seat. “Okay?” He smiles. “Where?”

“Well, what do you feel like having?”

“American food.”

“My specialty. I know only the best American places around here.” Before Jihoon can open his mouth, Jisoo decides. “So I’ll meet you downstairs in a few? Okay, good, great, can’t wait.”

He closes the door to the sweet sound of Jihoon’s laughter.

*

“This.” Jisoo gestures to the small corner street restaurant, sitting a short walk from the riverside and piled upon by apartments. He beams. “My comfort food.”

Jihoon looks around. In all his several years of living in the big city, he’s barely seen the north side other than in passing. It’s quieter up here, but somehow busier; darker, but the small business shop lights glow brighter. The buildings aren’t skyscrapers and the cars pass slowly, it’s unfamiliar, cheaper, but Jisoo almost fits as if he could slot somewhere squeezed in an alley street.

The restaurant itself is a room, vibrantly marketed as  _ California: West Coast Delights _ in a sign of blue and pink. It sits like a shining cube amidst the inky street and inside, seen clearly through the huge front glass window, is tiled black and white, chairs and tables for two by an open kitchen and a door to the back.

“I know it’s not quite The Ritz, but…” Jisoo holds Jihoon’s leather-glove clad hand and starts to pull him in, “if you’re looking for a really good American burger, this is the place.”

“Baby, do you live around here?”

“Hmhm, about 10 minutes.”

Jihoon just nods and thinks of the vast space of his own home, thinking what Jisoo could live in too when looking around the darkened, lesser streets.

“What are you having?”

Jihoon slinks closer to Jisoo as he reads from the board above the counter. “Uh, what’s a… Hambizza?”

“Basically what happens if a hamburger and a pizza have an orgy with high cholesterol and an army of toppings.”

“That’s an interesting way to describe a meal.”

“Well, it’s American.”

With a smile, Jihoon nods. “I’ll try one.”

“Are you sure?” Jisoo wraps his arm around Jihoon’s, bundled between them coats and warmth. “Jeonghan tried one once and it did not agree with him.”

“I’m a man with a stomach, Jisoo,” Jihoon replies, smirking at him. “And your warning I take as a challenge.”

“Don’t say I didn’t tell you so. You want a coke?”

“Please.”

There are a few people seated and Jisoo smiles at them like they’re already friends. The air, apart from smelling like grilling meat and overly fried fries, is different, shifted almost, like the wind blows in a totally different direction this side of the river. Jihoon knows that he’s not above people earning an average wage, above anyone, to be exact, but dressed in a suit that cost him more than it should’ve, he knows it’s a place he doesn’t exactly belong.

 

“I mean, there’s no way you’re going to eat all of that.”

Jihoon looks between the monstrosity of food in his carry away bag and to his boyfriend and scoffs. “You seriously underestimate my power.”

“That burger is about ten ounces, babe.” Jisoo strides next to him, picking at the packet of chips at hand. Cold air whips around them fiercely, small bursts of warmth exploding as they knock shoulders and wander over the cobble in an unknown direction.

“Try me.”

His boyfriend shakes his head as looks around the sparse street going uphill, having made their way along a road surrounded by still apartment lots. “You know, I hate it how you have the worst diet but never put on weight.”

“Hey, my diet is perfectly average.”

“You drink coffee all morning then have eight servings of pork in the evening. You live like a CEO but eat college student . ”

“Oh, and your diet is gourmet, right?”

“Better than yours.” Jisoo sips his drink delicately. “You’d think with all that money you have you’d at least buy yourself a decent chef.”

“Why would I need to when I have you, now?”

Jisoo snorts and laughs. “So, I’m your chef-slash-dietitian as well as your PA and boyfriend, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon jests, “You didn’t sign up just to love me, you know.”

After a fit of giggles, Jisoo takes another bite and rubs the salt on his pants. “I’ll be that boyfriend if you want me to be.” As Jihoon looks up, he continues. “I’ll make you cute little packed lunches and healthy smoothies to take to work with you.”

Jihoon smiles warmly. “That’d be quite nice. After, what, twenty-something years of living off random snacks in the morning and cold, leftover pizza.”

"Did your parents never make you a packed lunch or anything?" Jisoo starts to giggle, dying it down when Jihoon shakes his head in confirmation. "Oh, shit, really?"

"Yeah. My mom's a lawyer and my dad's the company’s previous CEO, they barely had time to breathe let alone to look after their kids. My older sister usually cooked for us." He chuckles bitterly. “Makes you wonder why they had ten of us then.”

Jisoo halts. “Did you just say ‘ten’?”

“Yep. Nine brothers and sisters.”

“Get out.”

“I’m not even joking,” Jihoon laughs. “There’s me, Amy, Taeyong, Sunkyu, the twins Sungyeol and Sungjong, the triplets Jieun, Siyeon, and Yoobin, and the youngest, Chan. All ten.”

“Good God.” Jisoo shakes his head in disbelief. “And I thought two sons was hard enough.”

“Yeah, well.” Jihoon watches as a single car speeds by before the pair cross the street. “I don’t know why they had us all. We’re all adopted, and every time a new one, or batch, came in, the rest were basically forgotten. And it was never neglect because there were always others around to look after us. I think they liked the idea of having a big family, but not the actual practice.”

“Wow,” Jisoo mutters. “So you’re close with your siblings?”

“Eh, not particularly. Amy and I are close, the twins get along and the triplets are stuck together at the seams. We kind of broke off into our own little cliques and got on like that. Made boundaries, lived quietly. More like an orphanage than a family home.”

“It’s hard to imagine, to be honest.” Jisoo kicks a few stones as he walks. “My brother and I were like this.” He locks two fingers together. “Barely fought, bickered. Just got on with it.”

“That’s me and Amy.” Jihoon smiles fondly. He takes Jisoo’s hand and separates it, casually clasping it in his own and swinging it as they walk. “The company was meant to go to her, but she moved to California to be with her girlfriend. And that’s when the disownage papers came through.”

“They  _ disowned  _ her?!”

“Hmhm. Then my dad worked himself to death and everything fell on me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry.” Jihoon makes that face, the cute nose scrunch he does when he dismisses something casual. “You might’ve guessed we weren’t that close.”

“Still… heavy, babe. Then again, I never knew my dad.”

“You didn’t?”

“Nope. Hansol and I used to imagine that it was the owner of the vineyard my mom worked on since she got pregnant there and moved just before she met my step-dad. We’d say how the whole estate was rightfully ours and pretend to be rich wine drinkers and own horses and lots of money.” He laughs and dumps the empty fries packet in the nearest bin, stuffing his now free hand into his pocket. “Hansol’s only my half-brother. Same mom, different dad.”

“You’re close?”

“Like glue. My step-dad and his new wife argue a lot, but it’s alright.” Jisoo gives Jihoon’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll meet them someday. I think you and Hansol would get on.”

Jihoon smiles, genuinely, with warmth shining out like a fire. “I’d like that. And Amy, I think you’d like her. Old movie fanatic, classical music… you’d have lots to talk about.”

“I can see now where you get your great taste from.”

“Well, she was insistent on being my personal stylist all through high school. She shaped me.”

At the heed of a silence, Jihoon tips his head up and blows his hot breath out in a puff. The night skies are clear and small twinkles of stars give tiny light under the moon, airplanes, and helicopters tainting the sullen dark. “I’ve never been good with affection,” he says suddenly, stopping under a lamppost with Jisoo standing in tow. “Or emotions.”

“You know, I never would’ve guessed that.”

Jihoon looks at Jisoo then. His tan shimmers stunningly under the orange streetlight, and his white teeth reflect his wide smile. If Jihoon were ever to come across something as beautiful as this man, he’d eat his hat and then some. Leaning against the cold metal post, Jihoon smiles softly and drains in the God-given gift in front of him. “You’ve taught me a lot.”

Jisoo steps closer and leans against it too, Jihoon rocking back and forth from the ball of his feet to his heel casually. “About what?”

“How to love.” He stops, perched on his toes with his lips just barely from Jisoo’s. “And how to be in love.”

“It’s not hard, really,” Jisoo says. He reaches a hand up and strokes it gently over Jihoon’s cheek before tapping the middle of his chest faintly. “It’s already in there.”

“Maybe.” Jihoon drops back down. “But thank you.”

“Oh, anytime.”

He smiles and shakes his head, pondering for a second. “God,” he exasperates. Words slip from his lips like a waterfall, crashing below like a treacherous stream of wonder. “God alive, I love you.”

Jisoo parts his lips and takes an inhale of breath, a deep shade of red sinking into his cheeks. “I love you too.”

Jihoon grabs a fistful of Jisoo’s coat, and pulls him down quickly, the clutter of strong words being channeled into the way their lips dance to one silent beat. “Oh, fuck, I do,” he says again suddenly. Jihoon cups Jisoo’s cheeks and splutters a disbelieving laugh. There was a time once where he considered those words to be utter bull, lies and nothing but a load of fantasy for people who are too easy. But this is it. He’s in love. Jisoo has taken Jihoon’s world into his hands and thoroughly shaken it up like a pretty snowglobe painting a picturesque scene.

“I know, I know you do,” Jisoo replies. “I know, I love you too.” He bites his lip and kisses Jihoon again until he’s breathless. Under the dim light of lamp post and wrapped up in a street of quiet, their hearts pound precariously in their ears, loud enough for the entire live city to hear.

“I–I have this… really weird, giddy feeling in me right now and I’m not sure how to react to it.”

“That’s called happiness, babe.”

“I’m happy.” Jihoon almost bounces. “I am, I’m really happy. And I don’t think I have been for a long, long time, Jisoo. You make me happy.”

Jisoo holds his hands, frozen to the bone, and kisses them, then kisses Jihoon too to reply.

Lee Jihoon’s in love and nothing’s going to stop him from it now.

 

*

 

“Am I looking at the queue for the eighties film festival or your movie collection?”

Jisoo hands him the warm cup of tea and quips, “Am I looking at an inspector or my boyfriend?” He briefly kisses Jihoon’s bare shoulder and sits back against the armrest, his own pair of long, gray sweats hanging feebly off Jihoon’s hips in exchange for the unbreathable, tight slacks they had taken off in the earlier haste. Jisoo stands barechested too, noticing a small chill dancing over the latter’s skin, so he reaches for a blanket tossed on the back of the couch, and pulls Jihoon between his legs to wrap it around them both.

“No drinking?” Jihoon teases as he sips from the mug. “Even on a Friday?” His hair is still ruffled and Jisoo raises a hand to brush it from his eyes as he chuckles.

“No, because you have a meeting tomorrow in Daegu.”

Jihoon deflates and groans and Jisoo grins at the playful stunt of his bottom lip. “Really?”

“Really. Seungcheol’s going with you too.”

“Kick me while I’m down, why don’t you.” Jihoon drinks more of his tea. “Who has a business meeting on a Saturday for God’s sake?” He almost raises his voice before Jisoo gently shushes him. “You can’t come?”

“Nope, I’m babysitting Minghao, remember?”

Jihoon creases his brow. “When was that arranged?”

“The other day. You don’t remember much do you?”

“Was it on a Monday?”

“Probably.”

“There’s why.” Jihoon wraps his arms around Jisoo’s shoulders and leans closer into his heat as he laughs. “You’re missing one, by the way.”

“Missing one what?”

“Movie.” Jihoon nods back to the shelf in the corner of Jisoo’s living room, most shelves taken up by pre-2000’s cinema. “You don’t have _ The Terminator. _ ”

“Oh, I thought you meant something important then. T-that wasn’t meant to sound sassy – ” Jisoo stammers and laughs as Jihoon raises his brows teasingly.

“Excuse me, a more important movie than  _ The Terminator? _ Eat my ass, Joshua Hong, that’s the best film the 80’s – of the 20th century in general!”

“Now, actually I do disagree with that.” Jisoo smiles at Jihoon’s scoff. “Sorry, but there are better movies than Schwarzenegger running around being a destructive alien-robot. James Cameron has done better.”

“Oh, with what?  _ Titanic?” _

“Leo and I go back a long way.”

“You can tell a lot about a man by his movie taste Jisoo. And if a man doesn’t enjoy possibly the best science fiction series of all time–”

“What about  _ Star Wars _ ?”

“Good, but not quite The Terminator.”

“I disagree.”

“Well, that’s okay. You’re wrong, but okay.”

Jisoo accepts the warm cuddle from Jihoon like he was jestfully aiding the blow of his opinion and strokes his fingers through his hair. “What can you tell me about my movie taste, then?”

“Well, so far, I can tell you it’s bad – okay, okay!” Jihoon smacks away Jisoo’s hand that goes to pinch his skin. “Three favorite movies?”

“I have four.”

“Go on.”

_ “The Breakfast Club.” _

“Mediocre.”

_ “Heathers.” _

“Meh.”

_ “Top Gun.” _

_ “Top Gun!  _ Just marry me right now.”

“And  _ The Goonies.” _

“I take it back, let's get divorced.”

Jisoo opens his mouth. “Don’t even tell me you don’t like The Goonies.”

Jihoon closes it with his hand. “Sure, I enjoyed it as a kid, but it’s kinda childish.”

“But it’s such a film!” Jisoo argues. “It’s everything a treasure hunt story needs: bad guys, skeletons, adventure, a moral underline… You just don’t get it like that anymore.”

“And for good reason.”

Jisoo purses his lips and hums, letting Jihoon kiss his cheek chastely. “I suppose you’re all serious–  _ Pulp Fiction, A Clockwork Orange _ kinda guy.”

“Films with plot.”

“Films that are too heavy.”

“Agree to disagree.”

Jisoo chuckles and kisses Jihoon quickly. “Agree to disagree.”

Jihoon looks around the tiny living room again. “Your music makes up for it though.”

“Like my vinyls?”

“I love your vinyls.”

Jisoo lets Jihoon stand and stroll over to the rack of big, square cases adjacent to the movie shelf. “ _ Queen, The Beatles, Duran Duran _ … ” He snorts, “ _ ABBA _ … didn’t peg you as an  _ AC/DC _ kinda guy– ooh.” He lifts one out. “ _ Earth, Wind & Fire, _ I like.” After a few seconds of searching, Jihoon gasps. “Jisoo, this is my favorite album ever.”

Jisoo stands behind Jihoon and wraps his arms around his waist. “All ‘N All, probably one of the best EW&F albums.”

“Right?” Jihoon turns in Jisoo’s hold with sparkling eyes. “Everyone insists their debut album was the best, but I will never forget the first time I listened to this. My life changed.” He looks around. “Do you have a turntable?”

“Sadly not.”

“You have all these records and not a record player?”

“They’re a bit steep nowadays.”

“I’ll buy you one.”

Jisoo shakes his head. “You don’t need to, I can save up.” Before Jihoon can utter a reply, Jisoo leans closer and points to a track on the back of the album case. “My mom used to sing that to my brother when he was a baby.”

_ “I’ll Write a Song For You.” _ Jihoon grins. “How does that one start?”

Jisoo starts to tint pink as Jihoon looks up warmly at him. His eyes urge him on and his lips curl into a smile as Jisoo clears his throat. “You know, like… ‘I thirst but never quench, I know the consequence feeling as I do…’” His voice breaks slightly, accent coming in thick as he sings quietly in English. “That one.”

“I think I need to hear more, maybe.” Jihoon stands so he can circle his arms around Jisoo’s bare waist, resting the vinyl back in its place and pointing his eyes up expectantly at his boyfriend.

“I can’t sing that well, Jihoon.”

“Liar,” Jihoon snorts. “You sing in the shower, I can hear that much.”

Biting his lip, Jisoo looks over his shoulder like he’s expecting someone to burst into the room and laugh themselves to stitches at the vulnerable, tender moment. He continues quietly, singing softly. “‘We’re in a spinning top, where, tell me will it stop? And what am I to say?

“‘Open our music book, that only few can look, and I’ll write a song for you.’”

As if he could hear the gentle plucking of the acoustic and the gradual increase of strings on the record, Jihoon inches side to side as Jisoo clears his throat.

“‘Love is a symphony, hearts in one melody, ‘cause I’ll write a song for you. Sounds never dissipate, they only recreate in another place.’”

Its a poor excuse for dancing– more rhythmic swaying than actual steps, but Jisoo will take it in pride as Jihoon rests his head in the middle of his chest and breathes out heavily.

“‘There in your silent night, joy of a song’s delight, ‘cause I’ll write a song for you. You write a song for me. We’ll write a song for love.’”

Jihoon’s eyes slip close and he drains in the steady boom of Jisoo’s heart, the calm rise and fall of his chest.

“Remember it now?” Jisoo says, and Jihoon smiles, nodding in reply.

“Quite vividly.” He twists his neck up and smiles softly, cheek dimples caving crescents like October’s moon. "Hey." He beckons Jisoo down then, meeting him halfway while slowly elevating on the balls of his feet. He cups one hand around his neck, one of Jisoo’s pulling him closer by the small of his back, and he whispers so hushedly that even Jisoo struggles to hear. “Make love to me?”

Jisoo swallows and feels a rush of adrenaline course straight to his heart. He kisses Jihoon’s hair, takes his hands in his and replies, “Always.” as Jihoon starts to lead him to his bedroom.

 

“Do you think we have sex too much?”

From placing open-mouthed kisses up Jisoo’s navel, Jihoon peeks up at the man sprawled across his bed sheets. “I don’t know.” He seats himself comfortably between his legs and drags his fingers over his toned tummy. “Do  _ you _ think we have sex too much?”

“I’m not complaining about it, of course.” Jisoo has a flush to his cheeks, his bare body covered in goosebumps to contradict, and he hides his nose behind his forearm as he chuckles. “Just curious.”

“I’d say you have the average libido for a man of your age.” Jihoon strokes Jisoo’s unfirm member and watches as the latter wets his lips and wriggles against the cotton.

“You have a habit of talking like a wise old man.”

“And you have a habit of talking during sex, don’t you?”

Jisoo seals his lips but still wears a look like a cheeky teenager. “Sorry. I’ll shut up.”

“No, please.” Jihoon inches down Jisoo’s body and lifts his leg up, exposing him with a whimper. “Talk my ear off. It’s hot.”

“I sometimes can’t t-tell when you’re being sarcastic.” Jisoo sighs out blissfully as Jihoon takes soft bites and trails them down his thighs.

“You want it more explicitly?” Jihoon kisses his lips once and mutters in Jisoo’s ear. “Your voice is like honey and it turns me on like a light switch.”

Jisoo splutters a playful chuckle and swings his arms around Jihoon’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you just say so? Want me to talk you to orgasm?” He snickers at his own joke.

“Baby, have you been drinking?”

“Nah, I’m only drunk on your love.”

“Yeah, okay I’ll take you up on your offer of shutting up now.”

“Hey– hphm!” Jisoo clenches his knees together and drops his head back with groan. “Jihoon, I’m–”

“Still stretched, how handy.” The two fingers sinking deeper inside Jisoo curl and the latter rolls his hips up and back with a loud gasp, hand clasping over his mouth under a breath of curses. Jihoon heeds mercy and spreads a lather of warm lubricant over his digits before easing them back into his boyfriend. “Still feel talkative?”

“You’re very v-vexing sometimes,” Jisoo breathes. “Where’d that idea of slow, love-making go, huh?”

“Oh, that’s coming,” Jihoon promises. “Don’t deny I will love-make the fuck out of you.”

Jisoo laughs as much as his lungs will allow as Jihoon’s fore and middle fingers press deeper. “That’s not how ma-making love works, baby.”

“And you would know?”

“Would you?”

Jihoon pauses and watches the way the sweat beads on Jisoo’s forehead. “No.” He kisses him gently, his digits laying out a calm rhythm. “You’re my first.”

“I’m taking your love-making virginity, huh?”

“And I yours?

“Naturally.”

“I love you.” Jihoon presses his lips to Jisoo’s. “I really do.”

“I know.” Jisoo rolls his lips together and returns the kiss tenfold. “I really know.”

“Come here,” Jihoon lowers his voice to a whisper and pulls Jisoo’s hips close up to his. Sitting up, he lets Jisoo feel his body, running over the dips of his abdomen to the sharp bones in his hips. “Let me make love to you.”

“The more you say it, the more I want it.” Jisoo perfectly smooth body arches up in anticipation, Jihoon circling him teasingly as he roots around on the floor for the discarded back of protection from earlier. He clasps it in his fingers and thinks for a moment.

“Do you maybe want to… go without this?” He sits up and waits patiently for a reply, Jisoo chewing his lip and looking from the condom in his hand, to Jihoon.

“Just let me get checked out first.” He rubs his hands over Jihoon’s arms. “Just to be extra careful, okay?”

“Of course, your choice, okay?” Jihoon kisses him again and tears the packet open with his teeth. Jisoo bites his lip and stares down the latter’s body, watching as he takes himself and protects, sitting on his knees and hovering over Jisoo with the softest glazed look in his eyes. “Ready?”

Jisoo nods. Jihoon’s warm, slick hand wraps around Jisoo’s length and strokes it slowly as the head of his cock just barely breeches him. The stack of pillows under his hips stutter as Jisoo clenches and rolls his head back, Jihoon’s breath sending tiny sensations over his neck like the gradual burst of feeling with the more he sinks in.

All he can hear is Jihoon; all he can feel is the pulsation of his neck as he clings to him for dear life. Jihoon holds his body like he’s holding gold, and whispers how precious and priceless he is.

It’s slow, steady, calm– like how first time lovers are meant to make love, and every single impression is amplified to a million. Jisoo clings on to Jihoon like it’s their last, deep in him, that spot that’s so used to being so wonderfully abused is grazed and stroked like a water droplet making a ripple over a pond. Jisoo curls his toes and whimpers like a baby. Every time Jihoon closes his hips to the skin of his legs, he moans, some barely coherent version of Jihoon’s name falling from his lips.

Jihoon hovers over him, deep grunts and groans filling the space between them as he runs his hands through Jisoo’s hair. “Look at me, baby,” he says.

Jisoo opens his eyes from their scrunched state and has all the heat pool to his stomach looking into Jihoon’s glossy pair– he’s almost crying. Jisoo lets out a whine and pulls Jihoon into a messy kiss, letting his hips ride up and collide with Jihoon’s.

“Tell me you love me.” Jihoon’s holding on to him just as tight. He thrusts harder once.

Jisoo gasps and scrambles to grip Jihoon’s hair. “I love you, Jihoon.” His hand grips his cock hard, not painfully, but the friction makes his hips squirm and shivers dance up his spine. “Touch,” he begs. He wants the overwhelming flooding of both pressures being pressed. “Baby, God, there again, plea–”

Twice. Jisoo moans loud. He grabs for the creaking wood of his headboard and has his words crushed under Jihoon’s kiss. “I love you, I love you…” The top of his member is thumbed, precum oozing out like it’s overflowing. “Oh, God– Jihoon.” He resists digging his nails into Jihoon’s plush skin or biting and cursing his way through. He just moans, loud, unwearied as he drinks in all the times Jihoon mutters mindlessly against his neck.

The bed taps tauntingly against the wall with Jihoon’s jolting body, utters of, “My baby, my love, I love you.” leaving him without thought. Jisoo matches the way the joints squeak, quiet and controlled until, bang! –

“Jihoon!” Thrice. Jisoo sees stars behind his eyelids and forces them open through his body shaking with release. Jihoon stares deep into him as his kisses falter to weak, lazy ones, lips sprawled over his skin like he’s devouring all of it.

“I love you.” Jisoo can’t say anything else. “Jesus Christ, I love you.”

Jihoon’s chest heaves, his knees quaking as he tries to hover over Jisoo, only to fall and land square in his chest. “I love… you too.”

Jisoo holds him in his arms, kisses his head and lets his erratic breathing steady before his tries to speak. “You’re sticky,” he jokes. Cum paints the pair’s legs like mismatched canvases and Jihoon breathes out a laugh as he shuffles his limbs around Jisoo’s.

“That’s okay,” he murmurs. “Sleep…”

“So we’ll just sleep in cum stained sheets too?” Jisoo asks, pulling the duvet over Jihoon nonetheless.

“Yeah.”

“Sweet.”

“It’s okay, because…” Jihoon lifts his head. “You love me, right?” His eyelids are half-closed, blinking to keep them open.

“I do love you,” Jisoo replies. He has a feeling he’ll not be tired of saying it soon.

“Good.” Jihoon rests his head again.

“And you love me?”

“I do.”

Jisoo smiles and kisses Jihoon’s head. “Good.”

 


	14. XIV

Jisoo guesses it must be his imagination –  birds don’t chirp in the city. Thinking of it, he doesn’t remember ever seeing a tree anywhere other than in a park or by the riverside that could house a family of birds. But the scene: sunlight painting through the open curtains, a tranquil chill washing over his bone. It’d fit perfectly in hand with a morning call of a mother bird to her baby chicks. Like the city’s a million miles away, in Jisoo’s small bedroom, Jihoon sleeps sprawled over him (for lack of anywhere else to sleep on his single mattress), peaceful and calm like there’s not a whole world of bustling business out there waiting for them.

Jisoo’s been awake for a while, gently combing his hands through Jihoon’s scruffy hair. He keeps thinking it’s time to get up, but never moves an inch with Jihoon’s body lying locked into his despite the mess that still sits over their bare skin. He grimaces thinking about it, but the former is still nowhere near ready to stir as long, quiet snores blow warm breath over his body.

Besides, who would want to wake a sleeping beauty when they could simply stay and stare for the whole morning through? Jihoon’s so goddamned gorgeous, Jisoo thinks – knows. His nose must be cold for it burns a bright pink against his snowy face; his lips are red, almost naturally so, but the number of times Jisoo’s seen him bite them must bring the bloody flush to the surface a lot. His eyes are dusted with unhealthy dark circles under the rim, sure cause of a handful of sleepless working nights but his lashes, black and long, sweep seamlessly over the skin, making them look like they sparkle in the warm sunlight. Yeah, Jisoo could easily stay forever and marvel at the eternal beauty of Lee Jihoon.

He almost flinches when his bedroom door flies open with a creak, banging back against the wall that boarder’s Jeonghan’s room. “You will never guess – ”

Jisoo holds his finger to his lips and hushes as Jeonghan halts in the doorway. “He’s still asleep," he whispers, glancing down.

His best friend’s face merges from one of confusion to realization to excitement. “Is that him?” he mouths.

Jisoo nods and bites back a smile.

Jeonghan nearly dances on the spot. “Wake him up, I wanna meet him!”

“Not an easy feat, you know.” Jisoo glances down. “Let him sleep for a bit, he’s had a rough week.”

“And I’ve had a rough life, hurry up and finish cuddling so I can start my personal interrorgat – ” Jeonghan bites his lips closed and quickly darts out of the room watching the way the lump of blankets called Jihoon starts to shuffle.

Jisoo projects his smile down at his boyfriend’s puffy sleep-eyes and runs his hand over his forehead to brush the hair back. “Good morning.” He gets a grunt in reply and a half-hearted open of one eye. “Sleep well?”

Jihoon nods slowly and starts to roll about the bed, still clinging to Jisoo to prevent falling off the small mattress. He stretches his arms up and flexes his legs out to his toes before going lax and lazily dropping his head back on Jisoo’s chest. “What time is it?”

“Just... “ Jisoo peeks at the clock. “Just gone nine – ” (Jihoon groans.) “ – You’re meant to be leaving for Daegu at one.”

The man hums and shuffles around in bed again, lying down to face Jisoo as he tugs the blankets up over his shoulders. “More time with you.” He leans closer, pressing a quick succession of kisses to Jisoo’s lips before the latter smiles and circles his arms to stroke through Jihoon’s hair.

“My roommates home, by the way,” he informs, “so that’s a no to whatever you’re thinking.” Jisoo presses his palm then to Jihoon’s forehead and pushes his boyfriend back to sit on his knees. “Jeonghan’s been dying to meet you.”

“Hm, the feeling’s mutual.” Jihoon leans in again, Jisoo graciously accepting a kiss before he’s met with: “But he can suffer longer while I spend my morning fucking you.”  

Jisoo scoffs kittenishly and pushes Jihoon’s shoulders back again. “Cute, but the walls are paper thin.”

“They really are!” comes from the kitchen, followed by a, “Sorry!” as Jihoon’s cheeks flood to red.

Jisoo lands his bare feet on the cold wooden floor and kisses Jihoon’s head, slipping on the sweats he wore last night and pointing to his unorganized mess of a clothes chest with a smile. “Clean clothes in there. I’ll make coffee, okay?” He turns on his heels and grabs a hoodie to cover his top half, leaving Jihoon in his bedroom to join his best friend in their kitchen.

“Morning you,” Jeonghan greets with a grin. “You didn’t tell me he was coming over.”

“He wasn’t meant to be.” Jisoo reaches for three coffee mugs from the cupboard and sets them down next to the kettle. “We just kinda ended up here after dinner. What about you? How was your night on the town?”

“Uh-uh, don’t go try and flipping the conversation on me, Josh.” At the look from his puzzled roommate, Jeonghan nods to the main room acting as a conjoined area to the kitchen. “Favourite EW&F album left out… what was it, romantic love-making to a background of some 1977 funk?”

Jisoo feels his face fill with color as he peeks over his shoulder at Jeonghan. “Oh – shush,” he stammers, scrambling to silence before his friend makes a show. “I’ll tell you about it later, okay?”

As if on cue, Jihoon then wanders past the bedroom door and joins the pair around the island. Jisoo’s white shirt is hanging off one of his pale shoulders and falls down to just above his mid-thigh; his black hair is still dishevelled and sticking up all ways despite the frantic attempt of combing in Jisoo’s mirror; and the same two-sizes-too-big sweats he wore yesterday hug his torso with he strings pulled tight to stop them falling. He looks an absolute treat, and Jeonghan thinks this same as he as Jisoo make subtle eye contact at his arrival. “Hi,” he smiles, reaching out to shake Jeonghan’s hand. “You must be Jeonghan.”

“And you must be Jihoon.” They connect over the marble top filled with empty plates and cups and take-out boxes. “Jisoo’s been telling me lots.”

“Likewise.”

“And that’s exactly what I hoped you two wouldn’t say.” Jisoo lets his arm slip around Jihoon’s shoulders as he pours water into all three mugs of instant coffee.

“Aw, but I’m so flattered you talk about me to your boyfriend, Josh.”

“And I’d never thought I’d be a topic for you and your best friend, Jisoo.”

“Don’t start ganging up on me!” Jisoo hands Jihoon his strong coffee as the two others laugh. “Don’t make me regret introducing you.” Jihoon kisses his shoulder as Jisoo hands the cream filled cup to Jeonghan.

“But I guess I should just get it over with now,” says the latter with a sigh. “You know, the whole ‘treat him badly and I’ll break your legs’ facade?”

“Jeonghan…”

“I mean, I don’t doubt you treat him wonderfully, Jihoon, a man of your title–”

“Jeonghan–”

“But I do warn you, I have a history of leg breaking. For example, Josh’s first boyfriend in college–”

“Jeonghan!” Jisoo tosses a wet tea-towel from the sink in the direction of Jeonghan’s nose. “Stop, he gets the picture!”

“Just making sure.” Jeonghan turns to the man chuckling into his coffee. “Procedure. You understand.”

“I do, actually. But I assure you, Jeonghan – ” Jihoon returns his arm to slide around Jisoo’s waist. “I don’t have any intention of mistreating him.”

“Not without his consent, right?”

_ “Jeonghan!” _

“Okay! Okay… I’ll stop.”

Jisoo turns to look down at Jihoon. “Please, do me the courtesy of ignoring everything that comes out of his mouth.”

“No, don’t – ”

“Quit.”

Jihoon looks between the two as they aimlessly bicker over him of all things. He stays quiet, more enjoying the company than feeling intimidated or awkward by it. He keeps his hand locked to Jisoo’s hipbone and sips his well-made coffee, feeling for the first time in a long time like he’s not an outsider; like he’s being welcomed warmly by people who live in a totally different life than he. He thinks of Seungcheol and how the two of them used to incessantly bicker like Jeonghan and Jisoo do, reminding him of the feeble times of a past separated by a fragile glass frame. Oh, how he and Seungcheol used to bicker, about things: what to eat, what to drink, who to hang out with... About everything and everyone. A bitter thought overtakes Jihoon's mind. About  _ him. _

Jihoon smiles, until a shiver sprints up his spine.

_ Oh, God. Don’t think about that now. _

He thinks about it.

Suddenly, in his eyes, Jisoo and Jeonghan aren’t fighting. It sounds like an argument. A cut-throat, violent argument that’s going to leave one of them hurt. Except it’s not, really. Jisoo and Jeonghan are bickering, having a spat, playing like friends do. Just to Jihoon, it sounds like the echoes of a heartache and a memory sending bitterness pulsating through his veins. God, I hate arguing.

“Oh, when have I ever been wrong, Jisoo?”

“Do you want the list alphabetized or in chronological order?”

“Guys–”

“I’m just making sure you don’t scare the poor man away.”

Jisoo laughs, but it sounds to Jihoon like a cry. “I can handle keeping my boyfriend quiet well, thanks.”

“Guys!”

Both of them fall into silence and ponder at Jihoon with worried looks.

_ Fuck, they weren’t fighting, _ Jihoon thinks.  _ You just ruined their fun. Why are you a moron, such a goddamned fucking moron. _

As he spaces slightly, Jisoo strokes his hand over Jihoon’s hair. “Hey, are you okay, baby?”

Panic sets into Jihoon promptly. His palms sweat and his toes curl over the kitchen tile.  _ Don’t let him see, don’t let him know. Distract him, distract, distract! _

Pulling his best attempt at a fond chuckle, Jihoon steps closer into Jisoo’s warmth, resting his cheek on his shoulder to hopefully hide the rush of heat to it. “God, you two bicker like children,” he says. He avoids eye contact at all costs as breathes a silent sigh as Jeonghan’s shoulders relax. Jisoo’s, however, don’t.

“Well, as we know, Jisoo is still very much a baby.” Jeonghan continues sipping his coffee nonchalantly as Jisoo’s hands go to comfort, threading his fingers through Jihoon’s hair. “I remember watching him taking his first shot in college. Awh, what times…”

_ Think of anything else, any-fucking-thing else. _ Shots, alcohol, drinking… Jihoon’s mind starts a mental gymnastics routine trying to elevate his head from the toxic space.  _ Drinking, drinking… parties. The party! _

“Oh, speaking of…” Jihoon looks up at Jisoo and finds his pair of sparkling eyes flooded with concern trained down at the former.  _ Oh, he cares so much. _ “I keep forgetting to mention: some friends of mine are throwing a party on the 31st. They’ve asked us to attend.”

“Oh, a party?” Jisoo rolls his lips together, still massaging his digits at Jihoon’s scalp like it's his reassurance mechanism. “I don’t know, are we doing anything on Halloween, Jeonghan?”

“Other than our annual tradition of campy horror films and weed–” (“Hey, we don’t smoke weed!”) “–nope.”

“Jeonghan, you’re more than welcome to come with us.” Jihoon smiles. “The more the merrier.”

“Ah, well, I doubt your kind of parties are the parties Josh and I are used to, Jihoon,” Jeonghan replies. “Meaning I’m used to beer kegs and body shots, not fine champagne and cherries on sticks.”

“It’d be good for you to get out though, maybe, Han?” Jisoo suggests. Jeonghan pauses and looks up. “I mean, we’ve not been out for a while.”

Jihoon inputs. “I’ll probably be dragged around greeting people who I haven’t seen in six years, I’d feel better knowing Jisoo had someone he knows with him, too.”

“Seriously, Jeonghan, you should come!” Jisoo insists for a final time. “It’ll be pretty cool.”

“I’m flattered, but I don’t even have an outfit for a formal party.”

“Oh, wait, neither do I.”

Jihoon looks between them and smiles. “Don’t worry, I can sort that out. Just give me your measurements and I’ll have two suits tailored.”

“Wait –” Jisoo spins his head to Jihoon. “What? No, Jihoon, you’re not buying us suits.”

“Why aren’t I?”

“Because they’re – I mean, we can buy our own suits.”

“Okay, Josh, I’m usually against taking unwarranted gifts from rich men – ” (“Oh, sure!”) “ – but there’s no way we can buy our own suits.”

“Think of it as a Halloween gift,” Jihoon suggests.

“Who gives gifts on Halloween?”

“We give kids gifts on Halloween,” Jeonghan interjects.

“We give kids candy on Halloween, not a couple of hundred dollar suits.”

“Okay, then I’ll give you my card and you can buy whatever priced suits you like.”

“No, Jihoon. I don’t wanna waste your money on a suit that I’m probably not going to wear again.”

“Then I’ll take you out every weekend to places you can wear that suit. Plus, I’d earn that money back in an hour.”

“You’re being impulsive again.”

“And you’re being argumentative, baby boy.”

Jisoo almost caves.

“Woah, woah, woah, guys!” Jeonghan waves his hands out between them. “Before you give him a reason to spank you – ” (“He knows his stuff.”) “ – lets all just chill. You guys don’t have to fight over this.”

“This isn’t a fight.”

“No, this is a mature conversation between adults,” Jihoon agrees. “I couldn’t fight with him anyway.”

“That’s actually rather sweet.”

“And before you both give me a reason to throw up…” Jeonghan snatches up a wooden spoon from the utensil pot and gives it to Jihoon, who furrows his brow. “... Jihoon, why do you want to buy Jisoo and I suits?”

“Since when were you a counselor – ”

“Sh, Jihoon has the talking spoon.”

Jihoon plays along and holds the kitchen wear to his chin like a microphone. “Because I’d like you both to attend this party with me, and I like treating my boyfriend sometimes.”

“Now, Jisoo, why don’t you want Jihoon to buy us suits?”

“This is silly.” Jisoo takes the spoon anyway. “Because I don’t want him wasting money on me like that, and – why am I being treated, too?”

“Because you bought me dinner last night, and! Jeonghan’s let me stay in his humble abode and drink some of his coffee. So I owe you both with a little gift.” Jihoon drops the spoon. “Case closed.”

Jisoo lets out a dejected sigh. “You’re not giving up, are you?”

“I’m a CEO, Jisoo. It’s in my nature to be a persistent ass.” Despite the crafty smile on his lips, Jihoon wraps his arms around Jisoo’s waist and nudges his lips up to kiss him quickly.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Jisoo mutters.

“Yeah, you’ll love me anyhow.” (Jisoo feels the sudden burn of Jeonghan’s eyes on them as he remembers he hadn’t reached that part of the morning where he retells the previous night’s events in detail.) “Subject change: can I use your shower?”

“Sure, yeah, it’s just through there.” He points to the door at the end of the small apartment and kisses Jihoon’s head as he turns away. “I’ll bring some cleans towels through in a second.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t drown.”

“The temptation is there.”

There’s quiet until the bathroom door locks shut, and the blunt sound of lukewarm water hitting against the basin is muffled by the wood. Jeonghan spins erratically and slams his mug down with a still face of shock. “He said the L word!”

“Sh…” Jisoo chuckles. He tips the cold remains of his coffee in the sink and grins. “Yeah, yeah, he did.”

“Did you say it back?” Jeonghan quizzes, voice now more of a hushed shout. “Spill, spill, spill!”

“Yes, I said it back!” Jisoo laughs as Jeonghan scurries around the island and shakes his arm aggressively. “And then he said it again, and again and I said it again, and again. We said it a lot, okay?”

“During sex?”

“Yes, during sex.”

“God, that’s kinky.”

Jisoo rolls his eyes and gives his best friend a shove.

“But hey, I’m happy for you two. You’re looking at getting really serious.”

_ Serious. _

Jisoo’s smile falters as he folds back into worry. “Did you see that, though?”

“What, when Jihoon almost went full daddy on your ass–”

“No, I meant when he spaced out for a minute or two.”

Jeonghan stops giggling. “Oh,” he says. “Yeah, I did. What was that about?”

“I have no clue.”

“Does he space out a lot?”

Jisoo purses his lips and hums. “No more than you or me.”

“He seemed… freaked out when we were bickering,” Jeonghan analyses. “Does he, like, get… affected by stuff like that?”

“I don’t think so. I mean…” Jisoo scratches the back of his neck. “... He and I have spats like that all the time, like, little jokey arguments.”

“Scared of conflict?”

Jisoo sighs once more. “I don’t know.”

It exhausts him. 

Here’s the thing: Jisoo’s a worrier. He’s worried his whole life about everything that needs worrying about and all the things that don’t. If he sees one instance of something that’s even a fracture wayward, frenzy settles into the back of his head and will eat its way through his brain until consuming his entire esse. Jisoo cares. He cares to the ends of the earth about Jihoon and will continue to until he takes his last breath. In majority consensus, Jihoon’s fine; most of the time, he’s nothing from an average man in a relationship with an average guy. But evidence builds, and Jisoo takes note.

“It’s not the first… incident,” he tells Jeonghan. “The other night, when I stayed at his, I woke up when it was still dark and he was – ” he forces the lump in his throat back with a glass of water “ – sitting by the window, acting quite… odd.

“He was talking to himself, saying ‘he trusts you, he trusts you, he doesn’t hate you.’ and… I just don’t know what that’s about.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

Jisoo looks at the bathroom door and gets lost in the rhythmic patter of water inside. “Not yet. I don't know how to bring it up.”

Jeonghan ponders for a second. “You love him, yeah?”

“Of course,” he replies without hesitation.

“Then talk.” Jeonghan’s face sinks as he just barely makes eye contact. “Or you’ll lose him.”

Jisoo brings his best friend into a hug and nods. “I know.”

Suddenly, there’s an erratic crash sounding from inside the bathroom, a hiss and a clatter.

“Jihoon?” Jisoo calls

“I’m fine!” comes the reply. “I just got soap in my eyes!”

"Yeah, good luck with the talking thing." Jeonghan pats his back comically as he trudges his way to his bedroom. Jisoo grins and shakes his head, escaping to the closet to fish out some fresh towels for his boyfriend.

 

*

 

Mountains pass him by, rolling on endlessly down the lonely strip of highway surrounded by an urban nothingness and a rural everything.

“You know what’s annoying?” Seungcheol says from next to him. Most of their car ride in Seungcheol’s luxury Mercedes Maybach had been spent in silence thus far, with Jihoon deep in thought and Seungcheol making feeble attempts at conversation, his mind parti pris on his son rather than the sulky nature of his friend. “Our accents have mixed.”

“Hm?” Jihoon’s resting his chin on his balled fist, eyes erratic as the follow every passing tree to the next, to the next, to the next.

“Yeah. I noticed sometimes you use Daegu terms and I, Busan.” Seungcheol chuckles to himself. “Minghao doesn’t understand me sometimes since he’s been living in Seoul all his life.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah.” Jihoon can feel the heat of Seungcheol’s eyes on him as he hesitates, opening his mouth and closing it again. “So. Are you gonna tell me what’s up or am I gonna stay feeling awkward over here for another two hours?”

Jihoon finally tears his gaze from the window and looks at his friend with a nonchalant, quirked brow. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I’m not stupid Jihoon,” Seungcheol says. “I know when there’s something on your mind.”

“Don’t worry about it,” his friend replies, turning away again to stare at the repetitive scenery. “Nothing’s up.”

Seungcheol lets out an exaggerated sigh and fiddles with the steel of his cufflinks. “Did you see that, Mr. Han?” He raises his voice to reach the ears of his driver. “I almost got to him, didn’t I?”

“You did, sir,” comes the robotic reply.

Jihoon looks between the stoney man in the front seat and his friend. “Okay, at least offer him a couple of bucks not to pay attention.”

“If I did that, we’d crash.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“You going to talk to me, then?”

“Jump off a bridge.”

Seungcheol exhales loudly again. “See what I have to deal with, Mr. Han?”

Before the driver can reply, Jihoon prods to partition button above him, and a sleek black screen closes the gap between the front and back seats.

“That was rude.”

Jihoon closes his eyes and lets a heavy suspire pass his lips. “I have a headache, okay?”

Seungcheol quietens, sitting meekly back into his seat as guilt starts to claw its way to Jihoon’s gut. It consumes his heart and forces a deep hole to cave into his chest, pulling the strings of his stomach and making his head so dizzy that he might throw up. He bites his lip, hard, a sting resounding behind his eyes as he clears his throat and lets out another sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

“No, it’s okay.” Seungcheol’s voice disagrees with him. “I just wanted to try and make you smile.”

Jihoon feels like a mighty spear has been rammed into his chest. “I’m just not feeling great.” If he were asked why he’d have no answer. This morning he woke up feeling on top of the world, wrapped so firmly in Jisoo’s arms that it made him feel like Superman with Lois Lane. Every time he wakes up with Jisoo it feels like everything wrong with the world has taken a break, letting a sharp shine of wonder glisten through the bleak spots. But like there dumbbells on his feet, he’s plummeted, so far that he can’t see the golden ray of light anymore. It’s cloudy, with raindrops flooding, all the passion in his heart seeping out and running from him like a river. It’s been a long time since he’s been as happy as he is with Jisoo, but even longer since he’s seen a low fleet like this. “Sorry,” he says to Seungcheol. “I appreciate it, I really do.”

There’s a halt to conversation filled with Seungcheol picking and plucking the seams from his suit while Jihoon stares down and the gray road rolling by. “They’re coming back, aren’t they?” Jihoon’s mind almost stops churning for a moment. “The panicking and the flashbacks?”

Slowly, slipping his eyes closed again, Jihoon nods. “I don’t know why,” he explains. “I haven’t thought of him for so long.”

Seungcheol rolls his lips together and hums. “Have you been to see Nayoung?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “It’s not been happening for long. A week or two at most.” In bitter contradiction, Jihoon breathes out a laugh as he rubs his eyes with his hands. “I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t think like that,” Seungcheol inputs in a firm tone. “You know that’s not good.” There’s a pause again, but Jihoon can hear the way his words are close to spilling out. “Do you think… Jisoo – ”

“No.” Jihoon silences him without hesitation. “No, it’s not him. When I’m with him, I’m happy. More than happy. Invincible. ”

“Then…” Seungcheol hums. “The sex?” If it weren’t the same thoughts running through their heads, Jihoon would’ve scowled and told his friend to shut up. “Since it’s similar.”

“No. That’s… normal.” He quirks a half-smile as Seungcheol snorts. “You know what I mean, I don’t feel –  whatever.” He shakes his head at the man. “I just don’t know, Seungcheol. Why it’s happening or what is.”

“Call Nayoung. She can help.”

“I know.”

“When we get to the hotel set up an appointment.”

“I will.”

“Have you talked to Jisoo about it?”

Jihoon shakes his head and takes a deep breath in.

“You should. You should share this with him.”

“How?” Jihoon finally meets Seungcheol’s eyes with an aggrieved curve in his brow. “How do I start that? ‘Hi, honey, my lil’ messed up side might be coming back after six years, but I hope you can still put up with me!’”

“Jihoon, you’re not messed up. It’s okay that this happens.” Seungcheol’s tone shifts as quickly as Jihoon’s mood. “Look, what happened to you – ”

“I don’t want to talk about it now, okay?” Jihoon softens his look and reaches out to hold Seungcheol’s wrist, stroking it tenderly. “Please? I’m tired of thinking about it.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

Silence overcomes the car again until the voice of the driver crackles through the intercom. “Mr. Choi, we’ll be pulling into the services to re-fuel shortly. Is there anything you’d like from the station?”

Seungcheol holds down the reply button. “No, thank you, Han, we can handle it.” Seungcheol looks to Jihoon. “Have you texted Jisoo about Minghao yet?”

“Not yet, sorry.” Jihoon fishes through his front pocket and pulls out his phone, reading as the screen lights up. “He’s texted me, though.

**jisoo^^:** babe can you ask cheol if minghao has a habit of sticking crayons up his nose or am i just really bad at handling children?

“How’s he doing?” Seungcheol asks.

“Uh, just fine.”

**jisoo^^:** also you left two of your credit cards at mine   
**jisoo^^:** how many of those things do you have?

 

**you:** sorry phone was on silent   
**you:** i left them there? oops   
**you:** ooh you can jeonghan can put them to use when you go shopping later!

**jisoo^^:** you’re one hell of snake, you know that?   
**jisoo^^:** you know what? what if i just wear a burlap sack to your party? what you gonna do then, huh

**you:** insist you still are still the most handsome man in that room no matter what you wear  
 **you:** and i’ll fuck you in a burlap sack anyday

**jisoo^^:** please, there is two year old staring at my phone right now

**you:** how you holding up with him

**jisoo^^:** he’s an angel, i absolutely love him   
**jisoo^^:** tell seungcheol i said good job or something

“Good job or something.”

“What?”

**you:** pulling into a gas station right now. i’ll leave you to your babysitting duties

**jisoo^^:** call me when you get to the hotel okay?

**you:** will do  <3   
**you:** oh btw   
**you:** the pin for the cards is 0-6-1-0   
**you:** have fun

**jisoo^^:** jihoon!

 


	15. XV

“You almost ready?”

Jisoo leans back from the vanity table mirror and slides the zipper on his makeup bag closed. “Almost.” He smiles over his shoulder at a fully dressed Jihoon leaning against the doorframe, looking awfully dapper in his tailored black dinner suit, bow tie hanging from his neck. “Just need to finish getting dressed. You look good, by the way. Very handsome.”

The sun is sinking over the city skyline as Jisoo trots over to Jihoon’s bed where the other pieces of his formal suit are laid out neatly: the navy blue waistcoat and blazer, trimmed with black lapels, pockets, buttons, and a tie. As he buttons up his shirt, he can feel the sensation of Jihoon’s eyes burning his skin, and looks over to watch him bite his lip obtrusively for the moment. His gaze is focused all over his body, attentiveness clouding him like smoke; he’s redefining eye-fucking to a new high, his pupils expressing something very iniquitous in his head… Jisoo clears his throat, confidence racking up in his bones like the blush advancing across his cheeks. "Do you want help with that?”

Jihoon snaps his eyes up and hums.

“Your bow tie,” Jisoo repeats. “Do you want me to tie it for you?”

Jihoon looks down to his chest. “Oh, right. Please, yeah.” He straightens from his confident, hands-in-pocket slouch and meets Jisoo halfway, eyes trailing down the defined muscle of the other’s thigh at a closer angle. Jisoo can see the hunger slated across his face, how he pokes his tongue around his teeth and cheeks and wears his smirk like a million dollars. Jisoo clears his throat again, this time to no response before he tips Jihoon’s chin up with a finger and combats the lustful gaze with his own.

“Eyes are up here, thank you.” Jisoo tightens the bow around Jihoon’s neck and brushes a stray hair off his broad shoulders. “You can’t keep staring at me the entire night,” he chuckles.

“Oh, I think you'll find I can.” As Jisoo tries to step away, Jihoon grabs his hand and pulls him back flush against his body, and small grunt stunting past the former’s lips. “I don’t think I’ll ever be unsatisfied if I could just stare.”

“Hm–” Jisoo quickly catches Jihoon’s hands as they trail to his behind. He almost mimics the way Jihoon wets his lips like he was staring at repast, his eyes truly beholding the epitome of sex on legs. “Maybe so, but you can wait until later and be satisfied my way. ”

Jihoon’s strength falters as he chuckles deeply to cover it up. “Fuck, well when you put it like that…”

Jisoo plays a false and leans in, only to quickly succeed in stepping away. “Besides, my makeup will run if I sweat too much beforehand, so keep–” he playfully jabs Jihoon’s chest “–your hands–” once more “–off.”

“Point taken,” Jihoon chuckles, raising his hands in a surrender. Jisoo reaches for his own tie and stands opposite the vanity mirror again, wrapping that around his neck as Jihoon inches closer behind him. “Question, though: have you ever worn a buttplug?”

Jisoo pauses for a second, hands stuttering as they fasten the fabric, glancing at a smirking Jihoon in the mirror. He clears his throat for the umpteenth time as to stop the whimper escaping it. Is it hot in here? Maybe Jihoon’s cranked the thermostat…  “Yes,” he answers, quickly resuming tying.

“I thought so.” Jihoon’s hand reaches down to caress Jisoo’s thigh, a shiver darting over them and chills sitting in his finger’s wake. “But have you ever worn one that stretches you when you move?” His voice is a whisper, lips connecting with Jisoo’s shoulder as that same shiver runs over every inch of his skin.

“No,” Jisoo replies. It’s getting harder and harder for him not to lose his head the more he focuses on Jihoon’s touches. “Should I?”

“Oh, I’d say it’s a very fun experience,” Jihoon says. His mouth reaches Jisoo’s ear, and he adds, “Especially when I get to watch you squirm and suffer through every time you feel it.”

Jisoo shifts from his left foot to his right, unintentionally rubbing his leg against the progressive hardening in his tight briefs. His intakes of breath sharpen, a wave of heat washing over him when he feels Jihoon nearing his pulse, biting at it like a predator to feed.

“Don’t you want to try it?” He’s like a conman with a very convincing story. Jisoo just can’t refuse.

He nods slowly, his knees wobbling as Jihoon suddenly snatches up control like a rightful prize. He shoves Jisoo into the vanity table, the delicate bottles of fragrance tinkering as his cranes his body over it lewdly. Jihoon tugs his underwear down, fingers going from grappling at his hips to rubbing at him raw, the hand that’s free coming to grasp Jisoo’s chin and brings it down for him to stare at his reflection.

“Keep your eyes open, kitten,” Jihoon’s voice murmurs, low and silky in his ear. Jisoo lets out a frail moan and arches himself into the contact in his behind. The sight of himself: flushed, tensed and quivering, is enough, but having Jihoon’s wonderfully crafted face construct itself into a cocky grin at his own jaunt– it’s like having hundreds of colors merging together to form a seductive painting of the highest price. “I want you to see your pretty little face like this.”

Jisoo bites his lip as Jihoon steps away.

“Do you want me to explain how it works?” he says. He strides to his bedside cabinet and retrieves the bottle of lubricant from the draw, with it, presenting a black, palm-sized, felt bag from his blazer pocket. Jisoo nods to his question, and Jihoon stands flush behind him once more, this time a coating of strawberry scented lube on his digits that he plasters over Jisoo’s ass. “When this little bad boy is inside this – ” He spanks Jisoo once to make a point “ – every time your hips make a big movement, it will basically swivel, and stretch you open further a little more every time.” Inside the bag, Jihoon pulls out the plug, a purple, silicone toy, three, maybe four inches in length with the width and diameter of a few pencils held together.

Jisoo gives a shaky breath, Jihoon’s fingers massaging him teasingly, pressure pounding more and more. “That’s in me a-all night?” he asks, to which his boyfriend nods.

“Well, until I decide to take it out and fuck you instead,” Jihoon says, following it promptly by diving one slicked digit past the boundary into Jisoo. “Not to mention,” Jihoon continues, “with how deep this goes… Well I don’t need to spell it out, do I, baby?”

The latter moans and gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and rolling his head back as Jihoon curls his finger inside him. His other hand goes back to cup his chin, tipping it back down and gripping ever so lightly. “Didn’t I tell you to watch?” Jisoo opens his eyes again. “Do you see what I see?”

Jisoo whimpers pathetically and nods to whatever Jihoon was saying. His nails dig crescents into the wood of the table as Jihoon fingers him with a quicker pace than usual and continues to whisper in his ear. “‘Cause I see a pretty boy who wants to be seen and treated like a bit of a slut, right?”

Jisoo forces his eyes to not slip closed in ecstasy. “Y-yes, Daddy,” he replies. He shudders the deeper Jihoon’s single finger works him, the hand used on his chin moving to stroke and massage his shoulder at a slower pace.

“You’re gonna be a good boy for me tonight, too, aren’t you?”

Slyly, Jihoon sinks his second finger into Jisoo, causing an almighty quake to ricochet around the latter’s bones. “Jihoon!” he cries, again breaking eye contact to drop his head back onto his shoulder.

Jihoon raises his hand behind Jisoo and lands it against the skin, stopping both digits to hiss, “Look at me, baby.”

Jisoo feels like he’s going to explode the longer he stands with Jihoon tormenting.

“Answer.”

“I-I will.”

“Will what?”

“Be good.” His cheeks are scorching hot, body shaking from the assault to him. Jihoon kisses his cheek as he repeats, “I’ll b-be good for you.” Jihoon stretches him wide, causing a cry to resonate around the bedroom and a desperate set of whimpers to follow. “Please, Jihoon, please.” He knocks his hips against the vanity drawer and he pops his leg up to ride into the feeling of scribbled pleasure in his gut. “Please, put it in.” He gnaws his lip harder, almost bleeding before Jihoon descends his knuckle to the rim, deep enough to make him squirm, but not enough to make him scream. “Jihoon,” Jisoo whines. “Daddy, please.”

“Okay,” Jihoon chuckles. “Alright, alright baby boy.”

Jisoo turns sheepish and bows his head, Jihoon kissing his shoulder as he lathers the toy this time in lube. “Look up, handsome,” he hears, bringing his eyes to meet Jihoon’s in the mirror. “Good, relax.” As soon as he does, Jihoon slides the plug into him, as far as it will reach, stretching him hard as it goes.

“Oh, fuck..." Jisoo curses, Jihoon smiling like a sadistic idiot as he finally keels over and breathes out heavily at the entrance.

With the base snug to Jisoo’s skin, Jihoon rubs his clean hand over his back and readjusts his underwear to conceal the goods. He leans around and kisses Jisoo over and over until the latter finds the stability to stand and inhale properly. “Okay?” he asks, and Jisoo nods with a warm smile on his lips. “Comfy?”

“Comfy,” he giggles. “But, shit, I-I don’t feel it–”

“Oh, you will, kitten.” Jihoon smirks bravely. “You will.”

They kiss then, Jisoo wrapping his arms around Jihoon and taking a tentative step to test it out. Nothing. It feels normal. He reaches a hand around to make sure it’s still there and shakes his head. “It literally feels like nothing’s there.”

Jihoon smiles mischievously and sighs blissfully. “Come on then, get dressed. I’ve got people to impress with how great you are.”

 

*

 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Jeonghan lopes down the steps of the apartment building onto the bustling, night drawn street. “Eyeliner and all, you’re out to impress tonight.”

Wrapping his arm around that of his friend, Jisoo snorts and pulls him into a hug. “I’d have a comment lined up about you, but I picked the suit out, so…”

Approaching the car, Jihoon stands up from leaning against it, smiling warmly at the two in tow. “You both look very handsome tonight,” he comments to Jeonghan cooing.

“Isn’t he a gentleman, Jisoo.” He accepts Jihoon’s hand to help him into the small limo. “Ooh, leather seats.”

Jisoo kisses Jihoon’s cheek on his way in, careful to not jolt his hips erratically or move his body in anyway that would trigger the asset inside of him. He hears Jihoon chuckle, throwing a warning smile over his shoulder as he slides in next to Jisoo. The car inside is luxurious: two sets of nappa leather seats facing each other and a driver’s section separated by a sliding partition. Jeonghan sits closer to the front while Jisoo and Jihoon take their place opposite.

“So, where are we headed?” Jeonghan chirps as they roll off in some direction west.

“Just a country club on the outskirts of the city,” Jihoon answers. He offers Jeonghan a glass, holding a light bottle of bubbly to the rim that the latter graciously accepts.

“‘Just a country club,’ like I’ve ever been to one before,” he snorts. “Don’t own it?”

Jihoon chuckles sheepishly and shakes his head. “‘Fraid not.”

Unfamiliar with any sort of shyness coming from the man, Jisoo smiles. “No, you only partly own three hotels, a coffee plantation and hm, maybe eight restaurant chains in America?” He earns himself a playful eyebrow raise from Jihoon and a laugh from Jeonghan, sipping his own glass while sending heart-eyes to his boyfriend.

“It’s like you two have switched personalities,” Jeonghan comments. “I’m not sure if I’m into this new sassy kind of Joshua.”

“You know what, you and me both Jeonghan.”

Jisoo opens his mouth to reply, only to have his words choked on as the car rolls over a pretty prominent bump in the road. His body jerks in its seat, feeling the crane of the plug twisting inside him, working it’s way into his walls in a fleeting spike of pleasure. He almost squeaked, covering up his gasp with a cough and having his nails dig deep into Jihoon’s leg to qualify it as the car smoothes again over the sturdy road.

Jeonghan continues to be oblivious, gazing out the window at the fancy housing designs as the city starts to thin out into suburbs and wildlife. Jisoo starts to sweat with the strain pulling at the front of his pants, biting his lip and trying to think of any other disgusting thoughts to evade the heat coming from Jihoon’s gloating eyes.

“Feel it now?” Jihoon whispers, low and quiet enough that Jisoo’s unsure even he could hear. He swallows thickly, urging the threatening hard on down and shakes his head at Jihoon, smiling through what they both know is pain and reaching for the bottle of alcohol rather than the glass.

Jisoo’s sure in for one hell of a party tonight.

“'Just a country club,’” Jeonghan repeats in disbelief. He steps out of the car and onto the gravelly stones underfoot, mouth hanging a centimeter or two open at the grand sight in front of him. Past the huge, cement fountain and the parade of suavely dressed men, gallantly dresses women and their equally refined cars, sits the country clubhouse: a building standing several stories high in a stellar, neoclassical mansion design. It screams rich like the brickwork is made of gold. Shimmering lights enhance it’s series of balconies and high windows, letting no shadow cast itself on the place. Behind them sits miles and miles of green landscape, a darkened abyss compared to the magnificence of the clubhouse in front of them. Even Jisoo stands in awe of the place, his breath fully taken from him as he blows his cheeks out and gulps.

“Shit,” he says, Jihoon coming to stand by them both, perfectly gleaming as he takes Jisoo’s arms.

“Shall we?”

Jeonghan leans close to Jisoo to whisper, “I suddenly just got really nervous.” to which his best friend promptly replies:

“I know exactly what you mean.”

A buzz emits from Jeonghan’s pocket, his hands going to flatten down his suit to find the source. “Hol’ up,” he says, his phone emerging from the fabric, which Jeonghan blankly stares at and pauses in his tracks.

Turning, Jisoo eyes him. “Everything alright, Han?”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan replies, eyes disconnected as they scour the area between Jisoo and the floor. “It’s Mingyu.”

Jisoo’s heart sinks to his stomach, almost letting go of his arm wrapped around Jihoon’s to pull his friend into a hug. The vibrance and color that’d been splashed over his face had turned into sunken melancholy as Jeonghan’s thumbs hover over the keypad on his phone.

“I’ll just… call him, maybe.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?”

Jeonghan snaps his eyes to his surroundings, hardly taking in the full-swinging party happening just in front of them. “Nah, I’ll be fine.” He smiles weakly. “You two go on. I’ll catch up.”

Hesitantly, Jisoo nods.

“Just say you’re my +1 at the door and they’ll let you in, okay?”

Jeonghan gives a small nod, turning on them with his phone pressed to his ear as the two turn as well, Jisoo looking over his shoulder while walking up towards the building.

“Who’s – ”

“His ex.” Jisoo face scrunches in distaste. “The one who cheated.”

“Oh…” A thus confused Jihoon nods, pulling Jisoo closer as the latter shivers. “And that’s bad right?”

Jisoo frowns at him, mouth open to fiercely agree before his sees the coy smile plastered over Jihoon’s face. “Oh, shush.”

“Your coat, sir?”

Jisoo almost jumps at the voice, the chill from the outside replaced with a gush of warmth walking into the grand foyer. “Oh,” he replies, taking of the cozy overcoat and handing it to the uniform man by an assortment of outwear already hanging on pegs. “Thank you.”

Jihoon’s back by his side, his own jacket off and hand presented for Jisoo to hold. “This is fancy,” he whispers to Jihoon’s chuckle.

“Hm, even I think I can agree with that.”

“Not like you’re used to this or anything.”

Jihoon cocks a brow at the giggle Jisoo lets out and shakes his head. “Jeonghan’s right. You are getting sassy.”

“What? Scared I won’t behave?”

Jihoon lets out a scoff and a playful tut. “You did promise, baby boy.” His hand, poised at Jisoo’s waist starts to inch it’s way down to the curvature of his hip as they begin to trail through a grand hallway, splashed with paintings and decor fit for a palace. Jisoo snatches his hand up before it can reach around to his behind, lacing the fingers with his own and feeling the warmth of Jihoon’s lips against his cheek. “But I don’t think you’re the type to be keeping promises tonight.”

As they walk, Jihoon swiftly drops his foot in front of Jisoo’s, making the latter stumble over it and feel the deep ache of the toy inside him, twisting deeper and deeper. Jihoon clasps his hand around his arm, helping him stand before he can fall, smiling smugly at no one in particular as Jisoo goes to grasp the hand that helps him. “Hoon–” No one’s close enough to hear him whimper behind his hand, but eyes are on them after his flounder, his face turning pink and his knees feeling shaky under him.

“Be careful, babe,” Jihoon muses, knowing brow cocked. His expression certainly did nothing for the bundle of nerves being toyed with all over Jisoo’s body, and the way he so smoothy talks and accepts the server who offers them drinks douses Jisoo in the need to pull him into a closet full of rich coats and do the unspeakable. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Fuck…” Jisoo whispers audaciously, shaking his head. “I’m not making it through this.” He sips the champagne, resisting the urge to gulp it as Jihoon smiles cockily.

“See if you can make it to eleven,” he says. “Baby will get his reward after that.”

Jisoo quivers and nods slowly, feeling Jihoon’s eyes too searing to look at for too long. “Yes, sir–”

“I was looking for you two!”

Jisoo feels a hand rest on his shoulder and jumps to see Seungcheol’s smiling face behind him. “Cheol,” Jihoon greets, stepping back to allow a circle of the three friends to form. “I didn’t think you’d be coming.”

“Well, Hao did put up a bit of a fight after the crayon excursion – ” (Jisoo flushes. From embarrassment and other means.) “ – but with the amount of candy he’s had tonight I think I’d be thankful someone offered to babysit – ” Seungcheol stops his sentence and stares off into the distance suddenly, an awe-stricken wash of red painting over his face.

Jisoo and Jihoon share a look. “Cheol,” Jihoon says, trying to capture the man’s attention. “Cheol?”

Jisoo looks over his shoulder to investigate what Seungcheol had seen and reaches out to stop Jihoon from talking as his own lips curve into a smile. Jeonghan approaches, a glow seeping into the atmosphere around him as he strides: confident; chin-up, all the aplomb a man could wish for in himself. He catches Jisoo’s eyes, his pink lips pulling back to show a proud set of teeth, before his head dips and he continues to walk towards the three.

Jihoon looks between Seungcheol, Jisoo and to Jeonghan, who closes the openness of the circle where they stand in the middle of a sleek, ballroom looking area of the mansion. Seungcheol looks as if the world has stuttered on its axis, the entirety of the universe focusing in on Jisoo’s friend that stands opposite him. He’s never seen someone so enhanced by another like he’s never seen someone literally be shot with Cupid’s arrow right in front of his eyes.

Jisoo clears his throat to evade the silence that follows Jeonghan’s quick greeting. “Han, you haven’t met Seungcheol right?” He motions to the mentioned, still standing like a mannequin in Jeonghan’s presence. “He’s Jihoon’s friend–” (Jihoon gives him a sharp jab in the ribs.) “–Cheol, this is Jeonghan, he’s my roommate and best friend.”

Stuttering, Seungcheol reaches out his hand. “Hey.” Bland, but his eyes invite the warmest of welcomes as Jisoo just so sneaks a peek before Seungcheol’s long lashes dust over them.

“Hi, there.” Jeonghan takes the hand and shakes it. Jisoo finds Jihoon’s puzzled gaze over their hold, his brow in a quirk as he discreetly shrugs his shoulders. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol acts as if it’s only him in the room standing opposite a man who took his breath away. “Do you – uh…” He scratches the back of his head and Jihoon rolls his eyes. “... wanna grab a drink?” He points to the bar in the room adjacent and Jeonghan’s illuminant cheeks bunch into a grin.

“I would.” They leave, and Jisoo and Jihoon are left crowded in some unspoken aura of confusion.

“Did… that just happen?” Jihoon says. “Right in front of us?

Jisoo moves to stand by him, watching the way as Jeonghan and Seungcheol move to the second room. “I think so.” Simultaneously, the pair look at it other, mulling over the happenings of their respective best friend’s potentially just having clicked.

"I've never seen Seungcheol look like that at someone in a long time." They both look back to the pair. "Not at all since the divorce."

"To Minghao's mom?" Jisoo asks. He looks at Jihoon who takes a breath in.

"Yeah. Her name's Nayoung. Minghao's adopted since she's infertile, but she didn't want custody."

Jisoo feels a pang of understanding. "Is she still in his life?”

Jihoon nods. "Yeah, they talk. She's a doctor, a psychiatrist. Minghao doesn't really see her much. Is this what Jeonghan felt like? When I started dating you?”

Jisoo smiles and hums. “The imminent feeling of needing to scrounge every inch of the other to make sure they’re right to date your friend?”

“Yeah. That.”

Again, their eyes meet and the two dissolve into a fit of childish giggles.

 

*

 

Jisoo’s standing alone in the corner of the room. He watches Jihoon, being dragged to person to person in a never-ending cycle of greeting and small-talk and business discourse that ends in the latter throwing a sappy, pleading gaze at his boyfriend curled introvertedly by the wall-large bookcase.

“Save me,” Jihoon mouths for the umpteenth time, Jisoo giggling and hiding behind his hand as Jihoon yet again has to smile plastically and catch up with yet another acquaintance.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol are nowhere to be found. The former whispered a quick, “I’ll make my own way home.” to Jisoo haphazardly almost half an hour ago, before rushing away with the latter in tow. Jisoo stands now, idly watching the lives of the rich roll by, a questionable itch curving up in his gut that he’s dying to scratch the more that time ticks on. But he waits. He folds his hands. He looks around the room. He sighs.

“You look as if you really don’t want to be here.”

Jisoo looks to his left. Another man stands there, hair black and slicked to match the darkness of his suit with contrastingly soft facial features and skin that’s been kissed by the sun. He sips from a glass of whiskey and ice, smiling over the rim with cheeks that bunch up to his eyes. Jisoo splutters a chuckle and turns slightly to face him. “Was it really that obvious?”

“Not at first glance,” the man says, “but after a while of standing where I am you really give off the, ‘I want to go home’ vibe.” He takes a prolonged sip of his whiskey, then holds the glass in his fingertips. “It’s weird, parties like this are usually full of familiar faces…”

“Oh, yeah, I’m new around here,” Jisoo replies sheepishly. “I’m here with Jihoon – Lee Jihoon, he’s the – ”

“CEO of Lee Enterprise,” the man smiles. “Everyone knows who he is, let’s be real.”

Jisoo nods and glances over to Jihoon, still exchanging idle conversation in a group of people that Jisoo hadn't a clue as to who they are.

“So, are you his arm candy, or?” The man takes another sip and Jisoo just about winces at the comment.

“I’m… his boyfriend actually.” He quirks a brow at that. “I work as his secretary, but... First and foremost…”

“Aren’t you lucky,” the man replies. “You’re living every gold-diggers dream.”

Jisoo tries not to let the annoyance swell in his chest, and fiddles with his fingertips to avoid them doing anything brash. “If that’s how you see it…” He doesn’t want to be rude to a man he’s just met, but the inflating anguish at such a label being slapped around makes some sort of rebuttal hurl it’s way from his gut to his throat. He swallows it down vigorously.

“I didn’t catch your name,” the man says after a small, eye contactless silence.

“Jisoo,” Jisoo says. “Hong Jisoo.” He reaches out his hand politely. “Some people call me Joshua.”

The man perks up, attention grabbed. “Joshua?” He switches languages as swiftly as a light switch, a familiar accent passing his words as he says, “American?” in fluent English.

Jisoo quirks a small smile. “Yeah,” he replies in a similarly accented language, still shaking his hand. “West coast. L.A. Are you?”

“Midwest. Chi-Town.” He feeds out a glad grin. “Seo Youngho, but a lot of people call me Johnny.”

Jisoo finally lets go of Youngho’s hand before he pauses. “Wait,” he says, squinting his eyes at the finely dressed man in front of him. “You don’t mean…” He does, and the realization hits Jisoo like a freight train, “…  _ the _ Johnny Seo right?”

Youngho raises his hands in defeat. “You got me there. We are… on about the same Johnny Seo, right?”

“Johnny Seo who was on Time Magazine's 100 Most Influential People’s List last year?” Jisoo stammers and fears he looks too much like a distorted fanboy in the midst of an idol. “The same Johnny Seo who writes for The New Yorker and owns half of the second biggest book publishing company in New York?”

“Oh, then yeah, that's me.”

Jisoo almost collapses. He clears his throat, prior annoyance having suddenly being swept away in some form of awe for the man standing in front of him. “I’m uh, a very big fan of your work.”

“Thank you very much, Joshua,” Youngho says. “You’re interested in publishing?”

Jisoo brightens. “Yes, much so. Being a journalist is my goal but novels sound like an alright time too.”

“Where did you go to university?”

“SKKU - Literature.”

Youngho nods and looks into the ice swirling around the whiskey. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s someone who wants to be a writer doing at an entrepreneuring company?”

Jisoo opens his mouth then quickly closes it again. “Well…” he says. He doesn’t really have a set answer ready for that kind of question.

“Did you happen to pull some  _ Devil Wears Prada _ ‘stick it out for a year’ joint?”

There. That’s basically his answer. “Pretty much…”

"Fair enough," he chuckles. Youngho nods his head somewhere out into the main room and Jisoo swallows. “How long have you been working for him?”

“Uh, just over seven months.”

“HIMG had interview openings earlier this year,” Youngho informs. “They publish–”

“Hanguk Ilbo.” Jisoo hums. “I didn’t know they were hiring.”

Youngho shrugs and returns to his drinks. “Well, on the bright side, you did end up bargaining one of wealthiest men under 30 in South Korea.” (Jisoo prepares himself for some sort of flick, a transition of Youngho being a shining light of wonder to someone Jisoo has very strong dislike towards. It's been no longer than five minutes and Jisoo's opinion on the man has fluctuated like a rollercoaster on steroids.) “Not that he really worked for it –”

“Okay, I'm just going to stop you there." Jisoo says suddenly, very little thinking going into his words. "I like you, you seem pretty cool but I will remind you once more that Jihoon’s my boyfriend who I will fiercely defend from your shitt y opinions no matter who you are, so kindly just – ” A rush of shame floods to Jisoo as he swallows and stutters over the confidence that faded just as quick as it appeared. “ – shush about it.”

There’s another silence, one fringed by cold and embarrassment on Jisoo’s part. He stands his ground firmly, not caving to apologies even as Youngho chuckles and shifts his weight in entertainment.

“Well, I quite like you too. Tell you – ” He whips out a tiny wad of a notepad from his pocket then and pulls a tiny pen out to match. “ – I’ll give you my email. There’s something about you, Joshua, that makes me want to read what you can do.” He rips off a page and closes it in Jisoo’s palm. “Send me some of you stuff, journalism or novella, and I’ll see who I can pass it onto.”

Jisoo’s heart practically jumps in his chest. Guilt settles in and Jisoo open his mouth, only to have Youngho shush him.

“Don’t apologise. If you want to get your way, be firm. Confidence works on you.”

Swiftly, like the encounter that just ruptured Jisoo’s world was nothing more than a quick hello, Youngho turns and wanders off, the crumbled slip of paper in Jisoo’s hand burning in anticipation to be read. Maybe Jisoo’s drank more champagne than he’d intended; maybe he’s so drunk he imagined that whole ordeal in some grown-up fantasy that tugs and tugs at the excitement strings in his gut. “What the fuck?" he whispers.

“If that’s a number he just gave you, I’m going to be seething.”

Jisoo doesn’t even jump and spins to face Jihoon with a mixed look of confusion and disbelief. He doesn’t even know where to start to explain.

Jihoon looks Jisoo up and down, eyeing the fisted grip. “Was it his number?”

“No,” Jisoo replies, smiling and finally feeling his body come back to earth from an unknown rush. “Listen, I’ll explain later. Are we going home?”

Jihoon lets out a chuckle, his face tinted red from either the alcohol or the suggestion in his eyes and voice. “Yes, we need to escape before someone else sees I’m here and decides to chat.” He snatches up Jisoo’s free hand in his as Jisoo stuffs the paper from the other into his pocket.

“So, it’s past eleven right?”

With their warm coats on their back and their hands wrapped together to keep them warm, Jihoons looks over at Jisoo drowning in the bright moonlight, the glow of the club fading out the further they trail towards the car. “Right?”

“What was that you promised?”

Jihoon laughs. “That’s not fair, I barely got to spend any time playing with you.” He purses his lips and Jisoo presses his own quickly to them. “What a waste of an evening and a perfectly good sex plan.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Jisoo replies. He steps out ahead of Jihoon and walks backward, still facing his boyfriend who holds both his hands tight. “You’ll have plenty of chances to fuck me with in public.”

“Is that an open invitation?”

“It’s letting you know.” Jisoo stops and wraps both arms around Jihoon’s shoulders like he was shielding his head with his forearms while his fingers tangled in his black hair. “Because like you said, baby gets his reward tonight.” Jisoo kisses him hard, shadowy darkness surrounding them out on the gravel with just the distant sounds of the party and ominous wildlife filling in the spaces of the words they don’t need to say.

“Which means?” Jihoon taunts, breaking apart to find his hands pushing Jisoo back by his waist.

“Which means, that you are all mine.”

 


	16. XVI

Jisoo watches as Jihoon’s eyes lock onto a plane driving through the dark skies, following it with a haphazard gaze. His boyfriend sits with his knees tucked to his chest, hands resting beneath his chin, adorning a silk robe and smelling of lavender from the pair’s shared shower. Even from a distance, Jisoo could see the sketch of worry, sadly now familiar, over Jihoon’s sharp features.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Jihoon looks up at him with bright eyes, smiling softly and taking the mug of coffee he was offered. “Just tired,” he says, folding his legs beneath him as Jisoo takes a seat next to him on the backless couch. 

“You seem to be ‘just tired’ a lot nowadays.” Jisoo drains in the frown Jihoon gives him, hands coming to close around the warm ceramic. He bites his tongue for a long moment, watching the way the cogs in his boyfriend’s brain stutter and clatter before he ultimately looks away. Jisoo had been thinking a lot about Jihoon between their untimely bursts of romance and passion. He’ll watch him, chewing a pencil at his sleek desk, and yearn to understand just a little bit more of the man’s seemingly never-resting brain. Over and over he’ll think about the morning in the kitchen with Jeonghan and wonder the depth of Jihoon he still hadn't reached. Jisoo pines for reassurance, and pines to know he’s entrusted with even the heaviest of Jihoon’s burdens, but more than everything, he pines for Jihoon to just be okay.

“Babe?”

Jihoon takes a second to look back at him.

“Talk to me.”

“What do you mean?”

Jisoo swallows thickly before he begins. What if he’s just projecting? What if Jihoon’s ultimately okay and Jisoo’s just over analyzing the tiniest bits that have no business being considered? What if this isn’t really his place at all?

“Something’s up with you. And I don’t just mean you spacing out or having little bursts of worry. I mean I can tell when you’re holding something from me, and I know this may not even remotely concern me but, please…” He takes Jihoon’s hand in his, the other reaching to the small table to place their coffee cups on them. “You know better than anyone that a relationship like this is built on trust, so I need you to be transparent with him.”

Jihoon can’t look Jisoo in the eye. It sends nauseous waves through Jisoo’s gut like a hurricane.

There’s a long, long pause, before Jihoon finally closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. “When my siblings and I were adopted, we each had a Godparent –  someone our parents would choose to be an aunt or an uncle figure. Mine was a guy who we always called Uncle Moon. He was a developer and owned a lot of coffee farms out in places like Africa and Brazil, and when my parents were away on business, he’d offer to watch over us some.

“When I was eighteen I moved from Busan to the city to go to college. He bought me an apartment and came to visit me every once in a while.” Jihoon swallows then, finding interest in the torn cuticles of his fingers. “He was married, his husband much, much younger than him, almost my age, but… it wasn’t exactly conventional. His husband’s name was Junhui and he was Moon’s submissive, not his partner. Jun signed some twisted contract Moon had written up –  like a BDSM contract  – and basically was owned by him.”

Jisoo wonders how everything is meant to relate, but feels the way Jihoon’s hand shakes in his, and gives it a squeeze to reassure him.

With another long inhale, Jihoon continues. “It wasn’t long before I was introduced to it all.” Finally, he brings his eyes to Jisoo’s. “To being a submissive.” They’re quickly moved away. Jisoo takes an inhale of breath as realization settles into him like a sickness.

“The apartment he bought you is this one,” he says. “And you’re the other person that the stuff in the closet has been used on.”

Jihoon doesn’t answer him, just takes a shaky breath in, and holds Jisoo’s hands tighter. “Moon had other boys too: three or four of them including Jun, but Jun was always his number one, his favorite.

“He said he’d teach me about being a strong submissive, how to endure it like a dominant would want. He would punish not just me, but the others too, and then leave us for hours without taking care of us. He told us he did it because he loved us.” Jihoon sniffs, and the first formation of tears spill onto his cheeks. “We’d be battered and bruised and left in a dungeon, all to make us toughen up. In those moments, when I was crying and in pain, I hated him so much. But at any other time, when he’d tell me he loved me and give me whatever I asked for, I – ” He tries to clear his throat, eyes squeezing shut. Jisoo reaches over and gingerly wipes one tear from his flushed face. “I –”

“You were in love with him.” Jisoo’s heart pangs, a lump welling in his own throat as Jihoon hides his face in his hands and cries.

“He treated us so well and – and said we were special to him. I fell for it, we all did, like idiots–”

“He manipulated you, Jihoon,” Jisoo says. He pulls Jihoon’s shoulders closer, letting the latter rest his head against his chest. “Baby, what happened wasn’t your fault.”

“That’s what everyone says,” Jihoon wipes his hand across his face, fingernails digging into his palm.

“Because it’s true. You were eighteen, impressionable and in the hands of a man who used his influence for bad things.”

“I should’ve known better–”

“You couldn’t have known better.” Jisoo kisses Jihoon’s head. “You can’t blame yourself for someone else’s wrongdoing.”

There was another long silence. Jisoo holds Jihoon close, waits for the rhythm to return to his breathing, and cards his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. 

“When I see you cry after I hurt you,” Jihoon eventually says. “I get taken back to then. I see Moon standing over me with a belt in his hand, saying it’s for my own good.” He brings his tear soaked gaze to Jisoo’s. “I never want you to feel the way he made me feel.”

Jisoo takes Jihoon’s hot cheeks into his hands. “Oh, baby. Jihoon, my love.” He wipes both tears away with his thumbs. “Never, not in a million years, will you be anything like that man.” 

Jihoon’s dark eyes stay trained on Jisoo as he continues.

“You are so, so much more than a pathetic excuse for a dominant. First and foremost, you’re my boyfriend, and I love you more than anything, I _ trust  _ you more than anything. If you were doing a thing wrong, I’d tell you, because that’s what we are: trust. We’re built on trusting one another, that’s how we work. I need  _ you _ to know I trust and I’m comfortable with you just as much I need to know you trust me.

“I love you, Jihoon. So, so much. You’re amazing at what you do, you’re better than any man I’ve ever known. You hear me?” He leans in and kisses Jihoon tenderly. “You’re nothing but the best for me, baby, and it breaks my heart that you don’t know that.”

Jihoon’s head drops and Jisoo presses his lips to his forehead. They stay embraced like that for a moment, hearing the dull thud of each other’s hearts before Jihoon pulls away, wipes the tear stains from his eyes and kisses Jisoo back on the lips. “I love you too.”

“What happened? To this Moon guy, and Jun?”

Jihoon swallows again, running his clammy palms over his robe and clears his throat. “One day, Moon brought a new boy home. None of us knew, but this boy was only seventeen– underaged. When we found out, we just… knew it wasn’t right and three of us, including him, decided to leave. His name was Dokyeom and as soon as we left he changed his name to Seokmin.”

Jisoo does a double take. “Seok...min?”

Jihoon nods. “He had nowhere to go, so I gave him a place to stay. When dad died and I became the CEO, I gave him a job.” He looks wearily at Jisoo. “For a while, we dated, had an on-again-off-again kind of thing, but at road’s end, he’s one of the only friends I have, and the only one who knew about Moon for a while.

“After it all happened, Moon moved away, and as far as I know, Junhui ended their contract and moved home to China. I started getting panic attacks and flashbacks and just couldn’t tell anybody until I totally collapsed. Seungcheol pushed me to see a psychiatrist, but the only one I would talk to was his wife, Nayoung.”

“Does Seungcheol know now?”

Jihoon nods. “Not about Seokmin, but about Moon and I. And the last I heard, Moon’s yacht had sunk off the coast of Sri Lanka with him on it.” He pulls his lips into a thin line. “All’s well that ends well.”

Jisoo strokes Jihoon’s hair. “Thank you for telling me this, Ji. It means a lot.” And it did. What are they if they don’t have each other to rely on, to  _ trust. _

“The way I am now,” Jihoon says. “Isn’t because of that. I’ve always been like this, into dominating– well, for as long as I knew what it was.”

“You know, I could have guessed that much.”

Jihoon finally cracks a smile and rests his head against Jisoo’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“Just… listening.”

“I’ve heard it’s one of my many traits.”

Jihoon picks his head up again. “You’re amazing. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of loving you it.”

Jisoo pushes his fringe back and kisses his forehead again. “You’re pretty cool too.”

They lie together on the couch, hands intertwined, quiet conversation as they watch the orange glow of the sun find it’s way to the sky in the east. 

“Did Jeonghan get home okay?” 

“I don’t know, I haven’t texted him yet.”

“I wonder what happened with him and Seungcheol.”

 

*

 

Jeonghan thinks he might be a bit too rough.

“Shit,” comes Seungcheol’s voice. “Fuck, pull my hair again.”

Then again, maybe he’s not.

He presses Seungcheol harder into the wall, taking the hands that were sprawled over his hips and holding them captive in a claw-like grip. He reaches his own palm up, stroking along Seungcheol’s bare back as his shirt lies discarded at their feet, and he yanks the latter’s hair back with a growl.

“Like that?” he asks, but Seungcheol’s pathetically submissive whimper already has given him the answer.

Jeonghan thinks he’s dreaming. If he pushes Seungcheol’s body harder into the plaster, he could break through.

“Hmng–” Seungcheol whines. He buries his face like a defenseless kitten into Jeonghan’s neck, their bodies sliding together as the latter grinds against his crotch. He mutters something incoherent, and Jeonghan takes it under his belt as something he’s probably doing well. Maybe. Hopefully.

“You’re so good, huh, baby?” he says. Praise doesn’t come to him naturally – he’s more of a rough and tumble kind of hook-up. But Seungcheol has big, shining eyes that are, in the moment, overflowing with a dire need of lust to be quenched and Jeonghan’s not sure if the flutter in his stomach is from fine champagne or something of a more sinister nature (read:  _ attraction _ ).

Seungcheol responds with a prompt sinking of his teeth into Jeonghan’s shoulder and the man duly realizes he’s not at all dreaming. He can feel every breath, hear every grunt, see ever shiver that wrecks Seungcheol’s toned body, and  _ god fucking damn _ his resolution, he’s going to fucking live in it.

His shoulders find themselves soothed against Seungcheol’s huge fucking bed, the latter sitting with his ass planted firmly on Jeonghan’s hips. Seungcheol’s suit is rather nice: silky and velvet, but Jeonghan isn't here to admire, and almost rips the fly open in a quick attempt to get them off him.

Seungcheol has glorious thighs, toned and tanned and just the kind of thing he’d like to sink his teeth into. He pushes the man on his back, pulling his briefs off him and dropping them on the floor as he leans down, teeth-baring Seungcheol’s plump bottom lip while he grunts, “Where’s your lube?”

“Bedside cabinet, bottom drawer.”

Jeonghan fishes through, smiling. “More than one?”

“I have seasonal tastes.” 

Jeonghan takes Seungcheol’s smaller, albeit thicker member in one hand, pumping it swiftly. “Are we feeling tropical fruits are Christmas berries tonight?”

“Any – Jeonghan, please.”

_ Oh, this guy is good. _

Jeonghan slathers maybe too much of tropical fruits into his hand (God knows he needs a holiday) and returns it slick around Seungcheol’s dick. “Oh, baby,” he muses and Seungcheol moans and flexes his hips upwards. “Baby, where have you been all my life.”

He watches as Seungcheol writhes beneath him, hand running up and down his chest to grace over his nipples, and drinks in the beauty of the man, begs flowing from his lips like a waterfall off a cliff. “Cutie, I’ve barely touched you and you’re a mess. When’s the last time you were fucked good, huh?”

“Too long,” Seungcheol pants.

“Hm.” Jeonghan leans in again and bites the junction of Seungcheol’s neck, sucking a deep, red, mark there, bruising the form purple. “Guess I got lucky.”

Seungcheol’s fingers are twisting in his bed sheets, closing his eyes and letting out tiny, wet whimpers. “Fuck, fuck, I’m close.”

“Already?” Jeonghan tuts and slows his hand to a teasing jerk. “We can’t have you cumming too quick, can we?” 

Seungcheol bucks his hips in protest, grunting. “No, Jeonghan, please, shit…” He hides his profile in a feathered pillow. “I wanna cum…”

Jeonghan bites another hickey at Seungcheol’s throat. “I’d let you if I weren’t such an asshole. Turn over.”

Seungcheol promptly scrambles to his knees, face pressing into the cushions, own hand teasing his cock as Jeonghan pruriently spits at his lower back, using his fingers to lewdly spread it to Seungcheol’s entrance. He swipes the bottle of lubricant and does the same, letting excessive amounts drip between Seungcheol’s cheeks and onto the white sheets below.

Lazily, Jeonghan presses his fingers to Seungcheol’s rim, no effort towards stretching him, just purposely to tease. He reaches two digits around to Seungcheol’s red lips and orders, “Wet them.” and shivering as his fingers are engulfed in a wet warmth. 

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he whispers, mouth making another bruising hickey at the back of Seungcheol’s neck. He lets the latter suck his fingers for a few moments, feeling some saliva drip over his chin before he moves them away and takes a fist of Seungcheol’s hair to yank back. 

Seungcheol’s back arches beautifully, his eyes screwing shut as Jeonghan presses one slicked digit into him. He can see the way Seungcheol’s hand moves faster over his dick and chuckles, letting go of his locks to lean right over him, his clothed bulge pressing against him. “Just one finger and you’re gonna cum?” (Seungcheol whimpers.) Jeonghan hastily fucks him with a singular digit. “Shit, you’re so sensitive.” He promptly presses in another. 

Seungcheol buries his face into the pillow and moans, hips thrusting to match as Jeonghan’s thin fingers rush him. “God!” he cries. “More.”

Jeonghan wraps his hand around Seungcheol’s cock again, matching both hands in a swift, satisfying rhythm. Seungcheol’s ass was phenomenal, a perfect bubble butt if he’s ever seen one. It was a challenge enough not to lean down and take a bite out of it.

“Work that ass, baby.” Jeonghan trails kisses down Seungcheol’s spine, smiling when Seungcheol cries out in approval when he slides a third finger into him, working them slowly until they’re pressed into the hilt. 

The man writhes, knuckles white from gripping the bed sheets and picks his head up to inhale, strings of spit left on his lips as he drools for it. Jeonghan could cum on the spot from the sight of it alone.

When he finally pulls his fingers out, Seungcheol’s shaky on his knees, and sits up to be able to connect his lips with Jeonghan’s in a mess of teeth and tongue. Jeonghan drops into the pillows, hands grasping Seungcheol’s hips as the other swings his legs over and seats himself on Jeonghan’s lap, rubbing himself against the clothed cock.

Jeonghan settles in and watches the way Seungcheol’s face scrunches in pleasure, mouth open from just a little bit of stimulation. If there’s anything he loves more than sex, it’s sex with a boy who’s needy enough to cum from feeling his breath. He pushes Seungcheol up enough to shuffle awkwardly out of his black slacks and squeezes another considerable load of lubricant over his half-hard length. He works himself, Seungcheol sitting on his thighs doing the same, his breathing labored and sweat sparkling over the gloriously tan skin. 

“Sit on my cock, baby,” Jeonghan rasps, biting his lip and watching the way Seungcheol’s dick twitches from the invitation. He rises to his knees, arms either side of Jeonghan, and kisses him as he shuffles closer, ass lining up with Jeonghan’s length.

One hand grasps Seungcheol’s hip, the other guiding his member up, humming as Seungcheol eases himself down to the tip. Slowly, cautiously, the latter sinks himself onto sitting on his calves, Jeonghan’s cock disappearing into him as he rolls his head back and lets out a loud moan.

“Big,” he whispers and Jeonghan can’t help but grin. He shifts his legs so his feet are against the mattress, and works his hips slowly up, back down, up until Seungcheol digs his nails into his chest, skin against skin, his length a snug fit inside him. “Fuck,” he gasps. “Oh, fuck, this–” He bites blood from his lip, Jeonghan reaching up to wipe it with his thumb as he experimentally snaps his hips into Seungcheol. 

“Oh–” Seungcheol claws harder, almost subconsciously taking Jeonghan’s fingers into his mouth again and starting to roll his hips down onto the length. “Jeonghan!” he cries. 

Jeonghan’s not felt this great in what seems like years and squeezes Seungcheol’s hips in reassurance. “Ride me, Mingyu” he whispers, dropping his head back into the pillows. “Fuck yourself on my dick, baby.”

“Seungcheol,” Seungcheol says, panting as he lifts his hips up and slides them back down. Jeonghan snaps his eyes open and feels the heat creep up to his face. “My name’s Seungcheol. You can c-call me Mingyu if you really want.” He moans and Jeonghan tucks the guilt and self-loathing away to ponder over a whiskey later.

Seungcheol runs his hands over Jeonghan’s chest as his hips get quicker and quicker. His ass bounces, skin slapping together lewdly. Jeonghan takes his cock into one hand and jerks it quick, flexing his hips up to match with Seungcheol’s bounces. All the energy lost over days of crying quietly into his pillow floods back to him, but the image of a whimpering, tall, tanned boy riding him sticks strong. He hates it, how he can’t get Mingyu out of his head, and forces his eyes open to drink in the person on him now.

Seungcheol is stunning, Jeonghan knows that, and wants to feel this for the next however many days: he wants the sting of their skin slapping together, the burn of Seungcheol clawing streaks into his skin; he wants the image of Seungcheol, well-built and toned, bouncing on him, lip bitten and neck bruised, mouth open in pleasure as he pleads with Jeonghan to make him cum. It’s like seeing a whole new piece of artwork that already felt like a classic. Jeonghan may never see this sight again, and can’t bring himself to care. Seungcheol isn’t Mingyu, and no matter the weak lapse, Jeonghan hasn’t felt lust like this in a long while– he’ll always have that, at least, that Choi Seungcheol was his slap awake from the nightmare of loving Kim Mingyu.

“Fuck!” Seungcheol cries. He focuses his hips to small, quick thrusts and leans himself over Jeonghan, face again buried in his neck. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

Jeonghan snaps his hips a little bit harder and pulls Seungcheol’s hips down into him rougher. His gut tightens, groans spilling past him quickly, head rolling back as releases into Seungcheol with an indescribable wave of warmth washing exhilaratingly over him.

Feeling it inside him, Seungcheol sits back on his knees and results to rubbing his hips hastily and jerking himself roughly. Jeonghan’s knees and arms fall slack, his breath in short, quick pants, but he reaches round anyway, giving Seungcheol’s ass one last grope before the latter lets out a whimper and cums over Jeonghan’s chest. He collapses first back, then beside Jeonghan, gentle gasps leaving his lips as he relishes in the quick fading high, eyelids closed, pink lips tainted red. 

A meek feeling floods Jeonghan then, leaving him small, and not just because the ceiling of Seungcheol’s home stood at fifteen feet. Why had he done this? Sure, Seungcheol was more than pleasing as a one night stand, but even Jeonghan had thoughts that he’d be rushing back to Mingyu before the night was out.  _ Why can’t I stop thinking about Mingyu? _

Jeonghan turns his head, saying, “I’m sorry,” on the tip of his tongue, but stops as his eyes fall on Seungcheol, carved features glowing in the dim moonlight. Suddenly, Jeonghan’s mind is filled with only him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK BITCHES
> 
> me: i lov this fic too much i dont want to put it on hiatus  
> also me: goes on hiatus the minute i get worried about exams
> 
> i have finally graduated compulsory education!! sure, i probably flopped my exams but here we are boys!!  
> so, firstly, different chapter today, don't ask why i just had a jeongcheol binge so leave me be. secondly, i've gone back and re-edited a lot of the first chapters, changed some things that happened and just brushed them up, so if you'd like to read them, please do! if not, nothing about the story has changed so it's all good
> 
> also name change lmao went from sevencts > shuantics! n if you wanna hmu up on twt my @ is shuantics ^^
> 
> thanks for sticking around bros, here's to some hopefully good updates soon! <3


	17. XVII

**NOVEMBER**

 

_I’m going to kill him_

Jisoo bites down on his lip hard, curling his fingers around the clipboard covering his lap.

_Jesus Christ, I’m going to kill him._

“This project will most definitely branch out our opportunities, and allow us to open up new holdings even further than the States.” The poor presenter looks terrified in front of Jihoon and the Lee Enterprises board of directors. Jisoo couldn’t blame him. He remembers the way Jihoon looked at him during his interview, with a gaze that could make anyone drop to their knees, quivering in fright if he wanted to. It was almost admirable.

Jisoo feels the vibration deep inside him and curls his toes inside his shoes.

_Almost._

From his plush cream chair at the head of the table, Jihoon leans forward, expression the definition of resting bitch face. His hand emerges from his pocket, and Jisoo lets out a quiet breath of relief.

“What I’m worried about is starting companies taking advantage of these new guidelines,” Jihoon begins, folding his hands in front of him. “By expanding to other countries, we’ll need more—”

Jisoo starts to zone out. Around him, the other assistants scribble notes and listen intently, but Jisoo can barely manage to lift his pen. His leg is bouncing, he’s breaking out into a sweat, getting weaker and weaker every damn second.

“And that’s only the lowest setting,” Jihoon whispered while Jisoo was just twenty minutes ago bent over his desk.

 _Fuck, shit, fuck, shit._ He wouldn’t mind the treatment if he weren’t sat in a room with members of one of the most influential companies in the country. _He’s dead, he’s a dead man._ He wouldn’t mind if Jihoon wasn’t so haphazardly torturing him, like he was doing nothing more than reading the morning paper.

Jihoon’s hand slips back into his pocket as the assistant director stands up to talk. Jisoo flutters his eyelids closed and waits.

“Are you okay?”

Jisoo opens one eye to Seungkwan, leaning over intently towards him. He swallows down the thickness in his throat and nods. “Oh, yeah just—” He takes a sharp breath in, a vibration stronger than the previous making his body go crazy. He spares a glance at Jihoon, who looks directly at Jisoo with a smile.

“Are you sure?” Seungkwan places his hand on Jisoo’s shoulder, reaching to grab his bottle of water beside him. “You don’t sound great.”

“I’m fine,” Jisoo quivers, accepting and gulping down the beverage. “It’s a bit warm in here, isn’t it?” He shoots a glare at Jihoon, one really radiating that he’s going to choke him out later and tries to relax back into his chair. The discreet, albeit long vibrator inside of him disagrees, and as it sets off again, sends a pulse of pleasure up Jisoo’s spine. “Christ,” he breathes, barely audible, but Seungkwan turns his head.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

Jisoo clears his throat behind his hand and wills Seungkwan to look away before safely biting his already bloodied lip and stuttering his eyes closed.

It wasn’t helping that Jihoon just _had_ to look light that today didn’t he? Looking suave and stunning and the epitome of Jisoo’s wettest dream. He’s so annoying sometimes. Can’t he just give Jisoo’s heart a rest?

Jisoo, of course, knew that Jihoon was daring. He’s never shy to show Jisoo off, and even less timid to wring him to a mess in public. But this? In front of every important member of the company, _and_ their assistants? Jisoo knew how staff liked to talk in the break room and if word got out that Jisoo was being tortured by a vibrator in the middle of a vital meeting— he doesn’t think he could face anyone in the building again. As if the current rumors weren’t enough…

There was another spark, and in his new shoes, Jisoo’s toes curl.

_Oh, Jesus, he keeps turning up the setting._

Jisoo wanted to hate it. He wanted to scold Jihoon and tell him not to be this reckless, but he just couldn’t. Not for lack of ability, he _knows_ he can tell Jihoon to stop any second and the latter will always oblige; but this time, Jisoo just couldn’t say no when the feeling of so many eyes scrutinizing his soul as he sweats and struggles sent shivers up his spine. Every so often, Jisoo dipped in doubt, wondering if this was really a good idea, but then he looks at Jihoon, who, with a cocked smile, looks back at him, and all sort of sense is thrown right out the window with a buzz.

Jisoo flinches this time, fingertips fading white as he grips the clipboard in his hands. _I_ cannot _do this much longer. I’m going to explode._

Figuratively and quite literally. How the hell would he hide _that_ from everyone?

Jisoo hadn’t even noticed that now four or five other speakers had passed, and could tell from the way Jihoon sat with his fist at his temple that he was getting bored. Bad news for everyone in the room; worst news for Jisoo, who had been certified and stamped as Lee Jihoon’s favorite plaything.

He tries to cover up the groan that comes from his throat with the next one, bringing his hand to his mouth and clearing his throat quietly. It didn’t help: a cough still came out strained and high pitched and garnered the attention of Seungkwan again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again. God, he’s so sweet, Jisoo’s going to taint him with this. “Do you need to go out?”

“No, I’m—” _Not okay, not okay, not okay._ Jisoo drops his head and bites the inside of his cheek. If he opens his mouth, he’ll scream, and ends up offering Seungkwan a dismissive wave of the hand instead.

 _Christ, they’re not stopping._ He can’t make it through this, he can _feel_ his orgasm pounding at him to be released. He spares a pleading look at Jihoon, who persist in pressing his thumb to the highest setting, and lets a tremble rock through his body.

“Maybe you should—”

Jisoo doesn’t wait to hear the last of Seungkwan’s sentence. He fists the strap of the satchel from beside his chair, and bolts towards the glass door of the conference room, ignoring the puzzled looks from his co-workers and triumphant smile from his boyfriend.

In the quiet, squeaky clean corridor, Jisoo almost buckles, holding his bag to his stomach and he swallows a moan down his dry throat. He paces his way to Jihoon’s office, ignoring at the phone rings at his own desk and slamming the door shut behind him. Collapsing in a heap over the leather sofa, Jisoo breathes deeply as sweat lines his forehead and he lets his heated body simmer slowly down.

“Fuck,” he gasps. He’s been edged in his time, but there’s just _something_ about it being like this. “I’m going to _kill you,_ Jihoon.”

He feels it before he hears it, another long thrum of a vibration. From lying down, he arches his back off the couch, balling his shirt in his fists as he finally can let out a free moan.

 _“God,”_ he groans. He throws his arm dramatically over his eyes and writhes out the sensation with the leather squeaking beneath him. “Jihoon…” His name comes out as a mewl, pathetically slipping from his lips like a drink.

Jisoo could feel the moment Jihoon amps up the power from his remote. He gasps and curls his toes in his shoes, not fighting it anymore and undoing his belt to reach into his jeans. He lets out whimpers and moans, rolling his hips up and down to the rhythm of his hand around his dick. “Jihoon,” he calls again, his voice cracking slightly and fading into desperate cries. God, how he wanted Jihoon’s hand around him, even better if he were blessed with his mouth. He barely hears his own unheard pleas as he rolls his head back, hips and body twitching as he feels the orgasm crawl his way to him from his stomach.

“Jihoon!” It’s like if he called his name enough, the latter would just appear and deal with Jisoo the way he ought to. “Fuck!”

He really can’t hold it any longer, despite the small voice of his kinky conscience telling him he should wait to let it be the feast of Jihoon’s eyes. With his teeth firmly clamped around his lip, and his body tensing like a clamp, Jisoo lets out a whine exhausted of resistance and finally releases into his hand.

He collapses weakly into the sinking feeling of bliss, the leather of the couch molding around his sweat-slicked shoulders. “Christ,” he blasphemies for the umpteenth time that day. _God, where is that 5’5 ball of pure frustration?_ Jisoo could just about envision that stupid, maddening smirk on his lips. He lets out another annoyed groan and moves his hands up to his face.

He must’ve been sitting there for another ten minutes until he hears the whoosh of the door brushing over the carpet. A chill is drafted over his spine as he peeks through his fingers, face probably still flushed, not being able to stop a grin spreading over his cheeks.

“Aren’t you just a _sight.”_ Jihoon folds his hands under his arms and leans against the door frame, eyes sinking into his cheeks as he smiles at his boyfriend.

“Fuck. You,” Jisoo replies brashly, words muffled by his skin. “I’m never forgiving you for that?”

Jihoon lets his eyebrows rise and pushes off to stride towards the latter. “Oh?” He begins, chuckling as he sees Jisoo shiver under his gaze. “I guess that’s why you’re sitting still so messy and patient for me.” He comes up and rests his hands on the arm of the sofa, nodding towards the streaks of cum still staining Jisoo’s skin. “If you were mad at me, you wouldn’t be waiting like a little present.”

Jisoo lets out another timid whimper, hands still hiding his red face. “Shut up,” he whispers, keeping his eyes on Jihoon, but shuffling his legs like he was trying to hide himself. Every second his boyfriend keeps his eyes on him, Jisoo feels the anger of being so ruthlessly tortured fade out to nothing more than a feign. _How pathetic would it be if I asked him to just fuck_ — oh god.

Jihoon’s dragging his index finger along the smooth of Jisoo’s tanned thigh. His cold hand leaves pulsations over his skin, making him shift and almost quake at the tiny touch. “Daddy…” he whispers and watches as a mist of arousal descends over Jihoon.

He inhales in and leans closer into Jisoo, so much so that his arms were boxing in his shoulders against the couch. “A lot of people asked if you were okay earlier,” he states. “When you said you had a poker face, I didn’t think—” Jihoon’s words are sliced like Jisoo’s hope as a shrill ring sounds from Jihoon’s desk. Echoing, Jisoo can hear the ringtone of his own desk phone just outside.

Expecting his never-one-to-be-interrupted boyfriend to continue as if nothing happened, Jisoo feels the rousing quell in his stomach again as a cruel looking smile curls on Jihoon’s lips. “Don’t you have a job to do?” he questions, teasing in his tone. So much so that the jaw on Jisoo drops, and he chokes out a laugh.

“Seriously?”

“What?” Jihoon replies. “I’m not paying you to sit around a look pretty. Although, I could—”

Jisoo shoves Jihoon’s shoulders away with a groan and tugs his jeans back over his hips. “Asshole,” he mutters, standing and not faltering as Jihoon’s hand swats at his behind when he walks stiffly over to the phone.

 _“Lee Enterprises,”_ he begins, laying his pissed-off receptionist voice on thick. “Mr. Lee isn’t available at the moment if you’d like to leave a message, I can—”

A laugher is barked over the phone, cutting Jisoo short. _“I know that voice, that’s your ‘about to choke a bitch out voice,”_ they say. _“Did I catch you two in the middle of fucking or something?”_

Jisoo lets out a long sigh. “Jeonghan,” he says. “Pal, I told you, you can’t be calling me at work, I—”

_“I know, I know, but this is important.”_

Jisoo folds his arms and sighs again with a smile. “Go on,” he replies, watching Jihoon as he sits down in his desk chair.

_“Next time you take huge financial leaps, can you, like, let me know?”_

Jisoo furrows his brow and shifts against the glass desk. “What do you mean?”

 _“Our rent,”_ Jeonghan continues. _“I don’t know how much your man is paying you, but I feel bad just letting you take it all.”_

Jisoo switches the receiver from one ear to the other. “Honey, I have no idea what you mean. I thought you were paying the rent today?”

_“I was, I just got back and the landlord said there’s been a downpayment for the next six months.”_

Jisoo feels a headache coming on from the constant crease of his brow. “No, that’s not— I mean, how?”

_“You didn’t pay it?”_

“Does it look like I have six million won in my bank?”

_“Well, then who did?”_

Jisoo sighs again and rubs his hand over his forehead. “I don’t—” His eyes fall on the man sitting across from him, fiddling with his cufflinks and making sure his gaze touched everything but Jisoo. “You know what, I think I have a pretty good idea who.”

Jisoo swings one leg over the other and hums as Jeonghan continues to talk down the phone. “Listen, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” All the while, he kept his sights on Jihoon, shifting uncomfortably in his cream leather chair. “Sure, sounds good… Bye.” He drops the receiver back into its slot and takes a long breath in.

“Babe?”

“Hm?” His boyfriend looks at him with the widest eyes he could manage, standing and resting his hands on both of Jisoo’s legs. Trying to distract, Jihoon leans in to press his lips to Jisoo’s neck, muttering, “What?” before Jisoo curls his finger under his chin, and gently holds his head still.

“What did I say—” The former starts calmly, “—about spending money on me without asking?”

Jihoon hums and rolls his lips together. “I have no idea what you’re—”

_“Jihoon.”_

“I’m _sorry,_ okay?”

Unamused, Jisoo drops his arms by his side, whining, “Ji! You know I don’t like it when you do that!” He folds his arms as Jihoon goes to fiddle with his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I just—I knew you said your landlord was raising rates, and the company treasurer said that if I keep adding more onto your check—”

“Which I _also_ asked you to stop doing.”

“—we’ll start having firms go into deficit. I just wanted to help you out.”

“Babe.” Jisoo sighs for the umpteenth time, bringing his arms up and holding them atop Jihoon’s shoulders. “Jeonghan and I don’t need help okay?” He spoke softly, seeing the way Jihoon’s cheeks were flushed in embarrassment. “I appreciate the thought. I don’t, however, appreciate you going behind my back to act on said thought. Okay?

“If you want to do something nice that involves a lot of money, _ask._ I don’t need to be drowned in lavish gifts, or have my boyfriend pay my rent. You get me?”

Jihoon nods quietly and Jisoo smiles as he leans in to kiss the former’s lips finally.

“Do something like that again, and I won’t talk to you so nicely,” Jisoo threatens him, but keeps a smile as Jihoon modestly rubs his hands up and down his thighs. He lips are pulled into an exaggerated pout, like he was waiting for Jisoo to kiss him again.

“Now,” the latter continues. “I believe you were to do something.” Jisoo watches as Jihoon’s eyebrow curves up, his mouth curling into a smile as he attaches it to his neck.

“Yes,” he almost purrs into Jisoo’s skin. “Where were we?” His hands suddenly tighten around Jisoo’s thighs, spreading them aside so his hips could fit between. The former softly lets out a grunt, one hand coming up to curl into Jihoon’s hair, while the other teasingly plays with his slim, black tie.

“I think you were somewhere near…” Jisoo slides the silky material between his digits, curling it around his fist to jutter Jihoon’s body closer, “…bending me over the couch to fucking ruin—”

_Briiiing!_

Jihoon’s balled fists land on the glass of the desks in frustration. “Fucking kidding me…”

Jisoo lets out a breathy laugh and again reaches for the receiver. _“Lee Enterprises_ —”

_Briiiing!_

Frowning, Jisoo looks around the room and locates his moblie sitting discarded against the plush carpet. “Oh—” He sets the phone down once more and hops of the desk, much to the dismay weighing in Jihoon eyes as he helpless flops back into his seat.

Jisoo scoops the phone up from the floor, leaning back against the desk before Jihoon pulls him forward to nose at the clothed spot just above his abdomen. His warm gusts of breath bat against the skin underneath and faintly makes him shiver. Jisoo runs his fingers through his soft brown hair and puts his mobile to his ear. “Hello?”

_“Hyung?”_

“‘Sol!” Jisoo announces happily, instantly forgetting about the warmth churning at his stomach. He switches languages fluidly. “Hey, mini-me. How’s it going?”

 _“Not bad, not bad.”_ He could hear the familiar rasp in his little brother’s voice and absently settles into Jihoon’s lap. _“Just think I’m ready to go home now.”_ He pauses. _“You’re on lunch break, right?”_

“Uh…” Jisoo checks his watch. “Near enough it. What’s up? _Ooh_ —” he shuffles against Jihoon’s lap. “I saw this adorable little shop earlier that reminded me of the one mom and I went to buy all your stuffed animals at when you were a baby. I thought when you come over next week—”

_“Actually, hyung, about that…”_

Jisoo pauses and tips his head curiously. “What?”

_“I don’t think I’ll be able to come over for Thanksgiving.”_

Inexplicably, Jisoo’s hear starts to sink to the pit of his stomach. “Oh?” he replies, trying to clear the choke. “Sure, that’s fine, but… how come? We’ve been planning this for weeks, I thought you were really excited to get away from the states for a bit.”

 _“I was_ —” Hansol says, “— _I still am, it’s just…”_ Jisoo can hear his brother take a breath in. _“I just think I want to be with mom this year. I know she’s in hospital and will probably have no clue_ —” he breaks it up with what Jisoo can tell is a forced chuckle. “— _but, you know, it could be her last…”_

Jisoo feels a sharp jab in his chest and swallows the thickness down with a hum. “Yeah. I understand,” he says softly. “You know that if I got time off work, I’d be there too.”

_“I know. Just pray for me spending the whole week with dad and his new wife.”_

Jisoo snorts. “She’s not _that_ bad ‘Sol,” he amends. “Don’t be rude.”

“ _No, but she’s not mom_ —”

“Okay, and I’m going to stop you right there,” Jisoo interrupts gently. “We don’t need to talk about that.” He quickly changes the subject. “How’s my smart baby brother handling big scary law school, huh?”

He can hear Hansol laugh down the phone. _“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,”_ he says. _“I’m still only in my first semester.”_

“You’ll do amazingly,” Jisoo reassures. “And hey, I don’t want you to have to worry about getting a job, right now or anything. You need to focus.”

_“Josh, the tuition is $63,000 a year. I need to get a head start.”_

“Ah-ah-ah. Don’t worry about it _Vern._ I’m here to help you, you know that.”

 _“I know_ —”

Jisoo jumps when the phone perched on the desk rings again and feels Jihoon beside him physically deflate. He holds back a chuckle as he lets Hansol finish his sentence, humming. “Listen, buddy, I gotta go, okay? Busy day… Yeah, I’ll call you later… Have fun, be safe, don’t go to too many parties— … Hey, that’s not fair, I was nineteen!” Jisoo scoffs and rolls his eyes at his brother’s remarks. “Whatever. Go study,” before smiling. “Love you too,” and hanging up the call. Hastily, he stands and reaches for the receiver on Jihoon’s desk, but before his hand can brush the black holder, Jihoon lurches forwards, picking it up and slamming it back down.

He corners Jisoo in with his arms and places his lips to his with one rough hand fisted into his dyed hair. “If one more _fucking_ person calls me—”

“At your very public business?”

“—I’m going to flip this desk, then have you set it straight just so I can fuck you over it.”

Jisoo rolls his lips together and clamps his teeth around them. He meekly raises his hands up and wraps them around Jihoon’s shoulders, smiling at the latter’s heaving chest and labored breath, worked up from waiting, and whispers in his ear. “You have a meeting in five minutes.”

Letting out a long groan, Jihoon once more collapses back into his chair and spins around like a bored child. “Dare I say this is karma?”

Jisoo chuckles, folding his arms and stopping Jihoon’s spinning with his foot resting between his boyfriend’s legs. “We’ll see tonight.” With one long push, Jisoo rolls Jihoon’s chair back and stands in it’s space, fixing his rumpled shirt and tousled hair before he leans down and kisses the latter softly.

“You staying over this weekend?” Jihoon asks quietly.

“Hm?” Jisoo ponders. “Can’t. I promised Jeonghan I’d go shopping with him.”

“Ooh,” Jihoon’s face brightens. “Do you want—”

 _“No.”_ Like he can read that handsomely defined face, Jisoo knew what was coming. “I don’t.” To make amends, Jisoo leans down again and leaves one last kiss on his lips. “And don’t ask again.”

“Yes, sir,” Jihoon jests, saluting before rolling himself back to his desk and neatening up the stacks of strewn papers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: "summer is here!!! time to do nothing but write and update all the time!!"  
> also me: has 7 consecutive breakdowns and does nothing for three months
> 
> so hi, its me, bet you were wondering if i was DEAD or not. can't get rid of me that easily wagwan, here's another chapter of This, hope you enjoy, leave your thoughts below, thanks for waiting so long ily all goodnight
> 
> psa if u want to pls hit me up on twt @vanfaheys or on tumblr @shuantics but ill be more active on tumblr!^^
> 
> psa 2 this also hasn't probably been edited well because its Late and i'm Tired and Busy so if you notice mistakes please forgive me!! or point it out in the comments that would also be appreciated <3 <3 <3 love u


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